Fear Himself
by SethSister
Summary: Freddy Krueger x (fem) Reader...Written in First Person...Split Personality Freddy- Good/Evil- Loving Father/Springwood Slasher
1. Chapter 1: The Reason

"How can you sit there and defend someone like that?" the girl yelled at me angrily.

"I wasn't defending him!" I shouted back, "I'm just saying that-"

"You like a guy that murders children in their sleep?" another girl scoffed.

My shoulders fell in defeat and I sighed. People like this would never understand so I refused to keep wasting effort by trying. The three girls that had approached me in the hall after the final bell rang did so for the sole purpose of pissing me off. They were all so self-absorbed and shallow-minded that they had nothing better to do than to annoy anyone they didn't like.

Jennifer, the group's leader had always been pretty disagreeable, but after failing cheerleader tryouts due to an injury she sustained during the previous year, it seemed she had gotten even more sour. The other two, her loyal henchmen Tabitha and Amy, weren't quite so bad unless Jen was around which just so happened to be most of the time. All three of them had been in the cheerleading squad every year until now when they gave in to their leader's demand that they should quit to be with her since she wasn't able to be part of the team.

I was surprised that they actually did it. I honestly figured they would do whatever they wanted without concern for anyone else yet here they were, missing practice. The fourth member of the posse who wasn't here _had_ denied her friend's insistence not to join the cheerleaders and had actually been named captain in Jennifer's usual place. That had to hurt...

"Hey! Leave her alone," a new voice sounded and I turned my head to see that my best friend, Dylan, had walked up beside me.

"Whatever, you psycho freaks!" Jennifer spat before stomping off past us, each one of the girls deliberately hitting my shoulder as they left.

"Wow. They get bitchier by the day, don't they?" Dylan shook his head as we watched the trio trot out the doors of the school.

"Yeah. I really wish someone would take them down a few notches," I agreed.

"Why don't we do it?" the lanky boy who stood half a foot taller than me grinned. "We could take those princesses easily."

I laughed, "Not worth our time. Besides, we'll be graduating in another year so I really don't want to risk staying in this shit hole any longer."

Dylan nodded, his smile falling away quickly as I put the last unneeded book into my locker and began strolling toward the exit, "Was this about the Freddy thing?" he asked.

I exhaled sharply, "Yeah. You know, it really irks me that it is perfectly acceptable to enjoy violent video games and action movies, basically worship assault rifles and killing animals and yet when I happen to show interest in the story of a serial killer, _I'm_ the one that has a problem?"

"Well, hunting, collecting weapons, and killing people in virtual reality is seen as harmless, but when someone takes a liking to an actual, real-life killer...people get afraid that you're going to imitate them," Dylan shrugged. "Even the video game thing isn't entirely accepted. A lot of people are still arguing that it leads to imitation as well."

My best friend had a knack for being the devil's advocate. It wasn't that he argued just for the sake of arguing either. He had a legitimate interest helping people to understand everything about a situation and the mindset of others. So naturally, he aggravated many without intending to. In fact, before we had gotten to know each other well, he enraged me on multiple occasions. However, I gradually started to get what he was about and that he was only trying to help better the world in his own way...so I started to listen.

"That makes sense, but you know I wouldn't do that, right?" I asked.

"Oh, I know that. In fact, most of the people who are interested in serial killers and horror and shit like that are actually harmless...or at least no more dangerous than your average person," he affirmed. "Your essay was great, by the way."

I smiled, remembering the reason that _The Shitheads Three_ had decided to talk to me after class, "Thanks. I guess I could have picked a more subtle topic."

"The idea of the assignment was to point out psychological problems which could lead to disastrous results when gone untreated," the boy pointed, "And you did a fantastic job. Think you got several students and the teacher thinking. It's not your fault that Jennifer is dumb."

I busted out in a laugh, "True!"

There was a short pause when we reached his car and I waited while he found his keys and clicked its button to unlock the vehicle. It had been a Christmas gift from his family last year- the latest Mustang, painted a dark blue with deeply tinted windows. The interior was leather with heated seats and the stereo system was godly. Needless to say, he came from money. But his parents, although they stayed busy, leaving him alone a lot, weren't assholes. They weren't the kind that looked down on you for being poor or anything. Which was good, considering my own family was both poor and broken.

Mom and Dad had finally divorced a couple of years ago and I had stayed with Mom. It was my choice, considering being fifteen at the time and even though both of them were pretty fucked up, Mom was at least stable in the sense she stayed in one place. Her priority had always been to keep her house and have food on the table, something my Dad was almost incapable of doing. Dylan's dad, the psychiatrist, had actually offered his services free to my parents for marriage counseling. The two of them refused, each saying that they weren't the problem, but the other person was. I had been relieved when the divorce was finished and I didn't have to deal with them together any more.

"Speaking of Freddy, what did your parents say about the trip this weekend?" I inquired as we slid into the car.

"About that..." Dylan started the engine, "My dad wanted to talk to you first."

I was mildly upset, thinking perhaps he'd say no, but I offered a joke so I didn't come off that way, "What? Is he afraid I'm going to seduce you into being straight?"

Dylan laughed as we pulled out onto the main road, "No, it was something about safety precautions? I don't know. He works at Westin Hills, you know?"

Oh. I had almost forgotten. My research into Freddy Krueger's life and the destruction thereafter that had been blamed on him had led me to accounts from Westin Hills Asylum. There had been several deaths there at the institute after patients insisted they were being stalked in their dreams by the ghost of the Springwood Slasher. But those weren't the only stories of this man turned dream demon that had surfaced, many from those without psychiatric records or other such problems. It had been an interesting tale indeed.

"Then it's something to do with obsessing over Freddy like those the patients from there?" I guessed rather gloomily.

"He doesn't think you're crazy. He's a psychiatrist so he over-analyzes everything," Dylan assured. "I think he just wants you to know he's there for you more than anything. He knows your parents good enough to realize, well...that life with them isn't easy." Dylan quickly understood I wasn't in the mood to talk about it and jumped to the next thing with a chuckle, "Besides, it's not like you want to make babies with Freddy or anything."

"I wonder if demons can impregnate you in your dreams..." I asked thoughtfully, drawing a horrified expression from my friend, "I'm kidding!" I laughed.

"Anyway, weirdo," Dylan poked playfully, "I got you a birthday present."

"A present?" my ears perked, "I thought the trip was the present." .

"Springwood is literally a town away. I don't consider ten dollars in gas and a Saturday out with my best friend an appropriate gift," he smiled, never taking his eyes off the road. "Look in the glove box."

My gaze left him as my hand reached out to pop the compartment in front of me open. It fell open to reveal an envelope with my name on it. Carefully retrieving it and pushing the box closed again, I flipped it over and began tearing the top off. Inside, there was a piece of paper wrapped around some cash. Pulling the money out, I saw there were three hundred dollar bills.

"Holy shit," I breathed, "I cant-"

"You can because you're going to need it," he smirked.

"What do you mean?" my brow furrowed.

"Look at the paper."

Unfolding the slip of parchment that had held the cash, I realized it was a print out of a Craigslist advertisement. _Rare collector's pieces! Museum Going out of Business!_ was the title and the body said basically the same thing with more boasting and the address of said museum in Springwood. Catching that I had finished reading and was beginning to look up awkwardly, Dylan clarified.

"The owner claims to have the Springwood Slasher's glove. He said he would hold it for me until the weekend for three hundred cash," Dylan stated proudly.

"Dyl, I...I don't know what to say..." I wanted to say no, actually. However, knowing both that he wasn't hurting for dough and that he wouldn't let me do anything other than accept his gift, I simply told him thanks. Besides...I really wanted that glove.

"You're welcome," he grinned as we pulled into the drive of the humongous brick home he lived in.

I was lucky to have such an amazing and generous friend. Someone who didn't judge who happened to have awesome parents who were the same way. Getting out of the car, I noticed that his dad's sedan, an equally luxurious model, was there. Often times he would be in his office pretty late on Friday evenings, catching up on paperwork, so it was strange to see he was home. I figured he wanted to be sure and speak with me before Dylan and I headed out tomorrow.

And I was right. As soon as we stepped in the door, the man walked into view from the kitchen, resting a smile on me, "If it isn't the birthday girl! Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Charlie," I returned, taking the hand he was offering and shaking it.

"Are you looking forward to tomorrow?" he got right to business.

"I am. We've already gotten the best routes for getting to the factory where Fred Krueger worked as well as the high school and his old home," I answered. "We plan on using pictures of the Asylum and the old church as well."

"It will definitely make a grand first video for your channel," he said, "I wondered if I might offer a few words of advice?"

I smirked shyly. I knew he only wanted to check up on me and perhaps make certain I wasn't becoming withdrawn into dark matters because of my upbringing and home life, but I appreciated how he didn't approach it that way. Rather, he talked to me as his equal, subtly letting me know that he was aware I was mature, "That would be quite welcome."

"Well, I have been in psychiatric care for many years now and I've known several people who have turned their attention to morbid things in the absence of proper treatment from those around them," he started.

Called that one.

"Having interest in the macabre doesn't an evil person create," he continued, "But it is easy to make the wrong choices or be drawn into accepting evil as justifiable when we ourselves, are not understood."

"But I thought that there are cruel acts that could be explained by understanding the person who committed them," I mused.

The psychiatrist beamed, "It always feels nice to know people listen and yes, I have said that before. However, explaining and justifying are two different things. For example, with Fred Krueger...it makes sense that he would seek out children as his victims due to how he, himself, was denied a proper childhood because of the abuse he endured. His predisposition to psychosis is definitely an unfortunate contributing factor he couldn't help. But he wasn't justified in killing those children because he endured horrible things."

A short quiet fell as I contemplated his words.

"I'm sorry," he added suddenly, scratching his head, "Did any of that make sense? Sometimes I'm a bit wordy."

"No, it did," I nodded, "No worries, I understand that people like Freddy should be held accountable for what they've done even if their reasons make sense."

"Great, well," the doctor moved on, "Outside of that, I'm always here if you want to talk about anything. I hope you can trust me."

"Of course," I smiled. He was one of the few people in the world I did actually trust. His wife and Dylan probably the only others.

"Alright. I'm going to order pizza. The usual?" he asked, to which I nodded and gave him my thanks before walking off to Dylan's room with him.

My mind was still stuck on what the man had said to me. I knew he was worried for my mental well-being and I anticipated the talk being a simple check-up on that. However, it hadn't been exactly what I had thought and I found myself psycho-analyzing the psychiatrist. _Accepting evil as justifiable when we're not understood_... Was he trying to hint that I might turn to being cruel because the people around me didn't understand me?

I didn't have a lot of friends and the ones I did have, I never hung out with or talked to like I did with Dylan. My parents, like I said, were fucked up. My dad was little more than a nutcase and my mom was a pretentious bitch. The pair perfectly matched in how selfish they were and how little they cared for me, for what I did, or for what I wanted out of life. Did Dr. Alderman perhaps feel that I was finding this attention by connecting with killers and demons?

I thought about that for a moment. Was I? I had always liked horror movies, skulls, knives...but after my parents got really bad and even after the divorce, my focuses became more morbid. Freddy wasn't the first killer or criminal that interested me though he was my favorite. And I think a lot of it had to deal with how his story was not only factual, but how it also merged with the paranormal. Not all of that could be proven, obviously. Or at least I had assumed that was the reason I liked him so much. What if Charlie was right? What if it was how I identified with the slasher? He had been neglected by family and society just like I was and when thinking about him, I somehow felt secure. Like he _could_ have been a friend to me in another life...


	2. Chapter 2: Competition

"So what's first?" I asked when we passed the _Springwood, OH Next Right_ sign.

"We should hit up that museum to make sure he doesn't call me a no-show and sell your glove," Dylan responded, making the turn.

"Oooo I really hope he hasn't done that!" I cooed. "You already got me all worked up for having the thing now."

He laughed, "Worst case scenario, you have to opt for a replica instead. At least then you'd have money left over to buy something else too."

"That's true," I agreed, but in my mind I knew a replica wouldn't be nearly as good as the real deal.

I thought our town was small until we made the exit and Springwood came into view. I'd say it was cozy if it wasn't so barren. _How many people actually still lived here?_ We made our way from the gas station and garage near the border and in toward the business district. The setup seemed like something from the historic side of a tourist town that had been built a century ago and never really updated. Most of the buildings appeared empty as well as several being boarded up. The only places with any sort of activity were the diner, straight out of an eighties film and what I only knew was the museum due to the large banner out front which read _Going out of Business!_

It was easy to find parking along the row and Dylan took a spot about halfway between our target and the restaurant. We then walked to the museum, which was less grand than the name it boasted: _Henry's Hall of Hate_. I couldn't say it wasn't an interesting title, but I was curious as to what made someone open up a crime-centered display in such an odd location. Perhaps there was a time when traffic was heavier due to the Freddy legends. However, it had been over sixty years since Freddy's human death and by the looks of my own research, there hadn't been much fuss about him in at least a couple decades.

Inside the building, there were four other people. Two men discussing what looked like an old diary, a third man studying a machete in a glass display, and a woman just inside the store's window who looked either easily distracted or paranoid. In addition to them, another, middle-aged man in business attire began approaching us with a smile.

"Welcome, my friends!" his arms came out in a large, boastful gesture, "What is it that brings you to my little emporium today?"

"Henry Meyers?" Dylan asked the curious man.

"That is indeed me," the owner grinned with a slight bow.

"I'm Dylan Mochery," my friend introduced. "I was the one who asked you about the glove?"

"Oh right, yes," Henry hummed, his eyes flashing over to me as he offered a hand, "You must be Fredriara. How apropos."

I shook his hand awkwardly, glancing over to Dylan who shot me a smug look, obviously proud of the alias he had created for me, "Yes, that's me."

"Well, you've come just in time! I've already had another young woman inquire to it," Henry informed us. "But I'm a man of my word! Please, come this way."

This guy was quite the theatric type... He guided us back behind the counter and away from the main room to what I guessed had recently been part of his tour as there were still empty displays and old posters about. Bending over behind one of these tables, he carefully retrieved a lock-box and set it atop before entering the code. Lifting the top and spinning it around for us to see, he continued his show, "This is quite a piece of humanity's hateful history. I assume you are aware of the stories?"

Ignoring the callback to his own alliterated tagline, I let my gaze fall to the glove in the box, "I am. I've actually written several papers on Fred Krueger and the legends of him."

"Oh how interesting of you," the man remarked, "The glove comes with a written certificate of authenticity, created by the investigators on the Springwood Slasher case and officially stamped by the courts."

"Has there been any restorations to it?" I asked. I didn't really care about that, I just wanted to know.

"There has. You'll see," Henry picked up the glove, flipping it over to show it in detail, "That it has been cleaned and restored. Obviously, the police were obligated to remove all organic substances from it before it could be released. Blood, skin and the like, in favor of a healthy environment. However, there has been no damage to the glove since then. The only alteration was when a previous owner sharpened the blades."

I nodded. Dylan had already said the glove had been briefly owned by another...fan, but fell to Henry's family after that person had committed suicide. It had been sitting in the museum ever since. "Three hundred was the agreed price?" I asked.

"Indeed it was," Henry affirmed.

As I pulled out the money that I still felt somewhat guilty for taking, my heart skipped a bit. _Holy shit, I owned Freddy Krueger's glove!_ _What even was I going to do with this thing?_ I didn't know and I didn't care. It was awesome and it was mine. I handed over the cash and Henry took it, subtly shifting the bills to be sure it was all there as he put the weapon back inside the container and lifted the whole thing.

"Well, I can't let you have my lock box, but come back up front and I'll get something for you to carry it safely home in," the owner smiled as he took the glove under one arm and slid the money in the pocket of his suit with the other.

We followed him and waited patiently as he set the box on the counter before bending once more to retrieve a cardboard box and bubble wrap, "I'm sorry, ma'am," he called suddenly, "It seems the deal went through."

I hadn't really been paying attention when we re-entered the lobby, but saw then that the woman from before was still standing in the corner and she had her eyes on us. While the owner's words to her were polite, they didn't have the same warmth behind them as they had when speaking to us. This, along with her just standing by like that, and the previous glimpse I had gotten of her made it seem that she was pretty shifty. _So she was the one that had asked about the glove? And she'd just been hanging around since? How long had she been there?_

She didn't change her stance when he spoke to her and when my gaze was back on Henry, I saw him roll his eyes before speaking more quietly to us, "I was hoping she'd leave upon knowing the purchase was made. She's been here since I opened and insisted on waiting to make sure nobody beat her to the glove if you didn't show."

"It's ten. How long ago did you open?" Dylan asked.

"Seven thirty," the man sighed as he continued wrapping the weapon. "I hadn't kicked her out in case you didn't make it as well, even though she's made it clear she has interest in nothing else. But," he looked up long enough to confirm the woman was still there, "You kids be careful. I don't know if she's dangerous or anything. Never seen her around. I'll walk over and grab her attention...give a last pitch for the other items while you two make yourself scarce, yes?"

We both nodded and I thanked him as I took the box, though to be honest, I really didn't want to just disappear. I had wanted to at least look at the rest of the memorabilia and get a bite at the diner before we started filming. Guess we could always come back. It wasn't like she was just going to leave and start searching the town for us, was it?Giving a friendly farewell as we turned and left, I slipped one hand away from the box I was holding and clutched onto the knife in my pocket as we passed the woman on our way out.

Henry's voice boomed behind us, my head twitching instinctively to glance backward. I hadn't expected his 'grabbing her attention' to have been literal. However, when I saw that her eyes had been glued to us and she stepped after the moment we opened the door, the owner had actually taken hold of her wrist, casually playing off the inappropriate touch by beaming brightly as he let her go and continued with his theatre-like gestures and descriptions of the marvelous items he still had for sale.

It appeared his plan had worked because we were able to get out of the museum and into the car where Dylan immediately revved the engine and took off down the road, without even seeing her leave the building. What a nice guy. I'm sure it wasn't necessary, but it was certainly an extremely considerate thing for him to do. As Dylan sped down the road, he began to take random turns this way and that. It took me a minute to realize he wasn't following a map.

"What are you doing?" I inquired.

"Just in case she is some sort of psycho, I'm making sure she doesn't simply follow the way we left and find us," he answered, taking yet another side road before slowing down.

"Yeah, I suppose better safe than sorry, though I doubt she'd cause a problem," I shrugged. "Besides, if we can take those princesses from school, like you say, I'm sure one cracked out lady wouldn't be any different."

The driver laughed, "You saw that too? Christ, she couldn't have been what, twenty-five? Years have not been kind to her."

"I'm not for body-shaming," I agreed, "But she definitely looked too thin...like sickly. You only see people looking like that with some serious problems."

"Anyway, want to hit up the factory first, then make our way back to the school and Elm Street? Maybe she'll have given up by then," my friend suggested.

"Sounds good," I cranked the music and leaned back.

The rest of the town was just as dead and it didn't take us long to reach the outskirts of it, tearing into the gravel lane that led to the old power plant where Fred Krueger had worked. We had been talking about making a Youtube channel for the longest and when we finally decided to do stuff on the occult and other similar things like exploring abandoned places, I had, of course, suggested our debut video be about Freddy.

With this topic, we already could do two separate videos. One would be telling the story and the other would be exploring where he worked though we had to tell the Aldermans that we would be careful and we'd only enter if it was open and there weren't any _No Trespassing_ signs. Apparently, there is a loophole where you can technically go on abandoned property if it isn't posted that your'e not allowed and you're not breaking in.

My mom didn't know about the project considering we rarely talked and even if she did happen to be against it, I'd do it anyway. Dylan's parents, on the other hand, I respected so it was nice to have their approval. Anyway, after seeing Springwood, it looked like we may be able to find several other abandoned or creepy places. At the very least could do a video about how much of a ghost town it was.

"Wow. It's not exactly what I had pictured," I was the first to stick my head out of the window when we parked.

"Well, I mean, it's an old power plant. They're not usually too big," Dylan explained as he turned around and grabbed his camera case out of the back seat, "The largest parts are the smoke stacks, but it looks like they've been demolished. Probably for safety reasons or something."

I popped my door open and stepped out toward the building, quickly making my way to its doors. _Damn it._ They were boarded up. "Dylan!" I shouted, "Bring that hammer!"

"What?" I heard his mumbled voice call back.

"BRING-" I spun on my heels to yell louder, instantly shutting up upon seeing another car pulling into the area. _What are the odds?_

I skipped away from my spot, rushing to Dylan's side as the vehicle came to a stop beside us. My friend just then managed to pull himself out of his Mustang the rest of the way to stand beside me, both of us staring at the newcomer. It wasn't a cop or sheriff. The car was plain, old, and even though the windows had no tint to them, we didn't register that it was the woman from the museum until she had flung her door open and began getting out.

 _So she was a psycho. What kind of adult stalks teenagers like this? And over Freddy's glove? Someone was more obsessed than I was._ It didn't look like she was holding anything and her clothes were simple, not giving the vibe of anyone undercover or having a concealed weapon. Even so, my hand once again was on the knife in my pocket, readying to pull it out if the stranger tried something.


	3. Chapter 3: Denied

"Can we help you, Miss...?" Dylan asked the moment the woman's eyes were on us.

"Lisa. Just call me Lisa, and you are?" she responded curtly.

"You're the one following us. I don't see a reason we should give you our names," I retorted.

The other lady stared for a moment before sighing, "I understand and I'm sorry for bothering you like this, but it's extremely important to me to get that glove you purchased. I'm willing to make it worth your while."

Dylan and I exchanged glances. I was wondering what sort of offer she could give, as it certainly couldn't have been more than what we paid or surely Henry would have taken her money instead, right? Or maybe not. The guy was considerably kind. Not that I would take her up on it or anything. The glove by itself was too desirable to me and the fact that my best friend had spent so much just to get it made it even more special.

"Well, it was a gift," Dylan stated plainly, "And she doesn't need your money."

"Please," Lisa's voice turned to a beg rather than a bargain, "You don't understand; I _need_ to get it."

"Look, lady," the boy stepped forward after carefully setting his camera onto the roof of the car behind us, "I guarantee that you are a no bigger enthusiast than my friend here so if you don't leave us alone-"

"Enthusiast?" the woman repeated incredulously, judgmental eyes darting between the two of us, "You think I'm a fan of that piece of garbage?"

Even though the guy _was_ a serial killer who not only preyed on children during his life, but reportedly stalked them in their dreams during his afterlife as well, I felt a twinge of anger. Part of it was my taking offense to my hobby being shit on and the other part felt the need to defend him since I did indeed find him interesting. Of course, I didn't.

"Then why _do_ you want it?" I asked.

Lisa hesitated. At first, I thought it was because she'd been lying about being a fan or whatever. However, I quickly got the sense the she felt the reason would only concrete our denial to sell it to her. Finally, she formulated a reply in the form of a question, "You're a fan of Freddy...that means you believe the stories about him becoming a dream demon, right?"

"Something like that," I answered vaguely. To be honest, I didn't believe or disbelieve it. I figured it was a probable possibility yet never really committed to saying it was the truth as it was also possible that there was another, more realistic explanation.

"I need to destroy it," she told me, "It's his only connection to this world and I have to make sure he can never return."

Hm. Interesting.

"If that's so," Dylan poked, "Why hasn't he ever come back in the past, oh I don't know, _decades_? There have been no sightings of him or deaths blamed on him in a really long time."

"That's because it's been locked up ever since he was banished!" she insisted, "Nobody has touched it. There has to be life on the other side of the connection for him to cling to and pull himself into our dream realm."

"That's not true," I mused, "There was somebody who owned it before it was put in the museum."

"Yes, and you know he killed himself, right?" Lisa presumed.

I nodded, "So I'm guessing you're going to say he was actually killed by Freddy?"

The woman stared dumbly.

"I thought so," I smirked, "Then how come Freddy didn't kill anyone else along with him?"

"Because that man was isolated and delusional!" Lisa argued, calming her voice before clarifying her point, "Freddy can only jump from one person's dream to another through the mind of the person he has already infected. This man was far too gone...his brain no longer held the memories and thoughts of others. Instead, it was filled with fantasies and the faces of actual people he could recall were too muddled by his mental disease that Freddy couldn't pin down any real person from it. When Freddy killed him, that was the end. He couldn't reach any further."

It was enthralling, both her story and her dedication to its authenticity. It definitely had me curious, once again mulling over how much I believed in the legend of the dream demon. I'd certainly like to dig up information on this last victim to judge the credibility for myself. It'd also be a good thing to put in our video.

"How do you know all of this anyway?" Dylan beat me to inquiring.

"Fred Krueger was...is...my grandfather," Lisa admitted shyly. "My name is Lisa Zane. Maggie Zane-Burroughs or if you go by her birth name, Katherine Krueger, was my mom."

Katherine Krueger...Maggie Burroughs...I remember reading those names. She had been the one that had led to Freddy's arrest after witnessing him kill her mother. She'd been put in a foster home, finally adopted and renamed Maggie Burroughs. It was within her own account of his last murders as a dream demon where she shared that he had been banished back to Hell after she and a few unnamed teenagers as well as a doctor at the halfway house where she worked had pulled him into the real world and blew him to bits. I wonder what the chances are of Lisa letting me interview her considering the answer was still a no on selling the glove?

"Really?" I showed my interest, "Would you be willing to let us interview you for our Youtube channel?"

The woman eyed me up and down, "If you let me have the glove."

 _Damn it._

"Uh..." I stammered, glancing over at Dylan.

"I'll do the interview and give you double whatever you paid for it!" she added hurriedly, desperate to attain her grandfather's weapon.

Six hundred dollars? Did she even have that kind of cash? By her ragged appearance, not at all. At least if she did, it must be nearly a fortune. Still, I wasn't going to sell the glove and judging Dylan's stern demeanor, he didn't want me to either. Besides, what he said was true: I didn't need the money. If I was starving and on the streets, I knew he'd buy me a room and food. That's just the kind of guy my bestie was. He had my back no matter what. So really the only thing I'd be trading for was the interview. Not worth it.

"Sorry, we already told you it's not for sale," I remained adamant.

"There has to be something of greater value to you?" she persisted, "Something, anything! Please..."

I couldn't tell if I felt badly for denying her this after all she was eager to give for it especially with it having belonged to her grandfather despite her hatred of him...or if I was just annoyed at her for continuing to try when I had bought the glove, I had wanted it, when it was a gift and had special meaning to me...and all she wanted to do was destroy it.

"Nothing," I stated plainly, my tone harsh.

Lisa sighed, "You're going to regret this."

"So you're threatening us now?" Dylan growled, shifting toward her.

I lifted a hand and put it on his chest to hold him back as I quickly pulled my knife out of my pocket and extended its blade, "Calm down, Dyl. She's not going to do anything."

The woman's gaze dropped to the knife I held idly at my side in clear sight. She obviously had not expected this turn, "You're right. I'm not...but you're going to wish I had."

She backed away slowly, turning so that she could slide herself into her car while maintaining a watch on the both of us. Her eyes finally left us when she was locked behind her door again, instantly throwing the vehicle into drive and casually rolling along the road and away from the factory. We waited for the hum of her engine to get far enough that we could converse without shouting at each other.

"I think we should come back to the factory later. We can still hit up the other places though," Dylan suggested.

"Why?" I asked as Lisa pulled out onto the main road at last.

"If we go inside, she might come back and cause trouble. Break into my car, steal the glove, or even come in after us and we can't know that she wont try to shoot us or something," he explained.

I sighed, "Yeah, you're probably right. We should do this part on another day when she wont know we're here. Besides," I rotated to look at my friend once the vehicle I'd been focused on was almost out of sight, "It's boarded up here. If she calls the cops, we might even get arrested."

My friend smiled and leaned around me to grab his door handle as I likewise strolled over to the passenger side, "So, Elm Street?" he asked.

"Actually, I'm really hungry. Why don't we head back to the diner?"

We both popped our doors open and loaded into the Mustang. It was about noon when we reached the diner and it was just about as busy as it had been when we left though it seemed that there were different trucks and vans there than earlier. The museum, on the other hand, had only one car parked out front. My stomach sank when I thought it was Lisa's again, however, an elderly couple soon left Henry's store and boarded it.

Making our way inside the building, I was pleased to see it looked as quaint on the inside as it had on the exterior. A blast from the past for sure. Whereas most restaurants nowadays had a sleek, seamless design that always looked clean and new, this place gave more the feeling that your grandmother had re-decorated her kitchen, adding several cheap tables and chairs to make sure the entire family had a seat. We took a spot next to the window, so as to keep an eye on our ride while we ate.

For some reason, I had anticipated the waitress to be middle-aged, a bit loud, and too affectionate for a stranger. Instead, she was a he and he was quite short with the way he spoke. Nonetheless, the burgers and shakes were good and we enjoyed the experience even if the hospitality wasn't anything to brag about. No more funny business during our time there and we were soon safely cruising down Elm Street, easily spotting house 1428.

It was also boarded up, the grass in the yard overgrown and the once pure white paint chipping with molded green shingles falling off at several points. The house wasn't in much worse repair than the rest of the street and yet somehow, it still stuck out like a sore thumb. Perhaps it was for the evil that once lived there. We got out of the car, Dylan grabbing his camera case before locking the doors behind him. As he retrieved the pieces of the device and began putting them together, the two of us stepped onto the broken driveway.

"I hope you're not planning on entering private property without the owner's permission," a cold voice sounded from across the street.

We both spun around, startled as we were under the assumption we were alone due to the lack of vehicles and activity in the neighborhood. There, standing about a foot to the side of the Mustang's trunk was Lisa Zane, arms crossed and a contemptuous expression on her face.

"We're just filming a view of the outside. We had no plans for going in," I half-lied. It wasn't that we hadn't thought about entering, it was just we had already decided against taking boards off of the house if there were any, due to its location. It would be too obvious that we were the ones who did it.

"Not without my permission, you're not," her tone was flat. "You're welcome to do whatever you wish for your videos here, if you'll make a deal with me."

"Back off," Dylan piped in, "We already told you that you're not getting that glove."

I raised an eyebrow and glared at the woman. At this point, even if it was only to be spiteful, there was no way she was getting it from me, "Actually," I wrapped my fingers around my friend's wrist and prompted him to step back onto the road with me, "Legally, we _can_ record the outside of your house so long as we aren't on the property to do it."

If looks could kill, I'd have died in that instant. The fury that flashed through Lisa's eyes and flushed her cheeks was priceless to see. Guess she didn't expect for the two of us to have read up on the law before setting out. Checkmate. I slowly turned back around and smiled at Dylan, whispering under my breath that I would keep an eye on her being so close to his car while he recorded. He started with getting a few different shots of the house, the yard, the sidewalk, and a bit of the rest of the street, and then he aimed the camera on me so that I could perform the rehearsed script.

"This is the home of the infamous Springwood Slasher who was known for kidnapping and slashing at least ten kids during his lifetime..."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Fun fact- Lisa Zane is actually the name of the woman who played Maggie Burroughs (grown Katherine Krueger) in Freddy's Dead. Also, I did a bout of ghost-hunting and exploration with a buddy of mine so yes, these laws that I am referencing are factual :)**


	4. Chapter 4: One, Two

Dylan and I had finished up filming on 1428 Elm and gotten shots of the school as well as random other spots in the town. Since we hadn't done anything at the old power plant, we had extra time so we had made our way back to the museum and asked Henry if he'd be interested in showing off his emporium so that we could make it into a video. He gladly agreed, saying he liked the idea of going out with a bang.

Neither one of us could help but to become excited around the animated man as he shared his story, probably with greater grandeur than the reality. But hey- it would make our little film that much more enjoyable. According to Mr. Meyers, _Henry's Hall of Hate_ had started as a vague idea when he was a teen. He had grown up on the other side of Ohio, relocating to Springwood for his venture after becoming enthralled in the legend of Freddy just as I had. Like I had guessed previously, there was a time even after the final death of the dream demon during which the town had been alive.

However, it was short lived in the grand scheme of things. Once he had to start digging into his savings simply to keep the museum doors open, he'd made the difficult decision to close, despite his still burning passion. He was apparently almost fifty and I had asked him what his plans were now. He answered by saying he wanted to travel. Not in any luxurious way, though, rather he wished to basically sell all he owned and backpack cross-country on his bicycle.

Henry had taken the time to show us a few of the items still left over after the day. There were mug shots, crime scene photos, and pictures of places and people related to other infamous killers and rapists. There were books written about or by these criminals as well as various possessions and weaponry from them. At one point, he steered us to the same machete that I had seen one of the customers mulling over earlier. It apparently belonged to another serial killer with paranormal myths tied to him. A man-child named Jason Voorhees. Perhaps another tale for us to look into in the future.

It was to my surprise that the man gave us this item upon our departure. His lease was out Tuesday and he said he doubted it should sell before then. I was speechless at first and Dylan even offered to pay him something for it though he admitted to not having much on him. Henry, however, insisted I take it as a parting gift to wish us luck on our endeavors as our visits with him had brightened his own aims. He made sure to wrap the weapon up and attach a note of authenticity just like with Freddy's glove. He also suggested we ride with both items locked in the trunk so that in case we were pulled over, there would be no suspicion concerning them.

We ended up making it home sometime around six and all in all, it had been an excellent day even if I was a bit peeved about not being able to explore the factory. When I had walked in the door of my own house, my mom was actually heading out. She beamed when she saw me, hurriedly pulling me inside and leading me to the kitchen where a cake was displayed with a card. She gave me a gentle hug and wished me happy birthday before immediately continuing on her way to work.

The card was simple, a small note saying she loved me and hoped I had fun. The cake was store-bought as evidenced by the clear plastic lid over it. I knew she didn't have the time to actually bake anything with how busy her schedule was. I looked it over, trying to determine what kind it was, but I came up dry as there was nothing on the sticker except the price, the barcode, an expiration date, and 'proudly baked at' with the store's name. I sat down and cut myself a slice, licking a bit of the frosting off before biting into the confection itself. Schrodinger's cake turned out to be vanilla...I think. It was pretty bland so it was hard to tell. Even so, I ate a few bites before dumping my plate and retreating to my room.

I hadn't been able to steal a moment to admire my new additions so I was greatly looking forward to some alone time to properly give my attention to Freddy's glove... _my_ glove. I carefully placed the box onto my bed, leaning over to set the bubble wrapped machete aside on my dresser until later. Slowly, I lifted the cardboard lid and let it fall onto the mattress. Reaching inside, I pulled out what was to the naked eye, a wad of newspaper. Somehow, my desire to keep the item in its best condition outweighed how eager I was to try it on and I gingerly unwrapped the strips of black and white parchment, placing them atop the discarded top.

I inhaled sharply at the beauty of fully realizing the terrible weapon of the legendary Springwood Slasher was in my possession. _Holy shit._ I flipped the glove over in my hand, fingers gently trailing the fabric and then admiring each single blade. Rotating it again, I slipped it onto my primary hand, deliberately extending the digits individually, getting a feel for it before making a fist and then flinging the blades open rapidly. _Fucking awesome._

I took the contraption off my hand, stepping on my feet in a circle to scan for the best place to display it. At first, I walked toward my dresser where the other piece of memorabilia lay, but suddenly halted, looking instead to my nightstand. At least for now, I wanted it close by. I wanted to gloat my ownership, even if just to myself. Stepping instead to the small table next o my bed, I rearranged the lamp and photo frame there so that I could place the glove front and center.

The next few hours were spent texting Dylan, dumping the files from his camera onto my computer, and beginning the task of creating the videos. Our channel had nothing on it yet except for a couple of playlists and our information. The channel art consisted of a 'shopped photograph of a haunted scene- an old house with fog surrounding it and a picture of Dylan and I in the center with somber demeanors. The profile pic was a logo that he had thought up for us to represent the channel name: _Into the Abyss._

Although I typically stayed up late, I found myself fatigued after the day and went to bed around midnight. My last thoughts were a brief recap of the day and the last thing I saw was the glove proudly resting beside my mattress, the last bits of light when I clicked the lamp off glinting wonderfully off its steel...

I wasn't a heavy dreamer yet even so, I knew a nightmare when I saw one... All of this excitement must have put my mind into overdrive. Was this the boiler room? It was exactly as I imagined it... _Duh._ I mentally slapped myself at the stupidity. I'm in my head; I've never actually seen the inside of the power plant- of course it was going to appear as expected! Initially, the place felt like a vivid dream with no real sense of dread, but gradually...a feeling of uneasiness settled over me. I didn't know why, as there was literally nothing happening except my casual stroll through the dank and dimly lit metal environment.

I walked past chains hanging from the ceiling, seemingly there for absolutely no reason other than to add to the eeriness as they swayed back and forth in a breeze that I couldn't feel. Suddenly, a hissing sound caused me to jump, my attention shooting toward where it had come. In one of the pipes lining the wall, there was a a leak spewing an intense pressure of vapor. As I neared it with my eyes studying, I could actually feel the heat and moisture coming from it. I had to resist the urge to touch it and see if it hurt. Okay, this was way too realistic to be a dream...did I like, get kidnapped or something in my sleep?

A different possibility struck my mind then. What if...what if Lisa had been right... I know I had said I didn't discredit the possibility, but honestly I hadn't felt that it would be _proven_ to me so clearly... In either case, I needed to figure out the truth. Had my imagination just gotten really expansive, was I still in the real world...or was I dangerously close to releasing a demon into his next feast?

"What's the matter, Princess?" a voice rasped behind me.

I spun around to face nothing...but I had felt his breath on my neck... Backing away, eyes darting back and forth across the room, I bumped into the chains which prompted me to flip my position again. Still empty. I took a deep breath, "Krueger?" I called, my tone beginning to show my nerves. "Freddy?" I asked, swishing around in circles, desperate not to be ambushed. The motion only proved to make me paranoid as I kept spinning and looking about, only to be greeted with the same scene over and over.

Finally, I stopped. My heart was beating rapidly and I was fighting with slow breaths to gain control of my body again. Alright, _if_ I am being stalked by a murderous demon right now...there were ways to beat him. He had to be weak anyway because of being separated from his food source for so long... How had they done this before? Controlling the dream...calling on an angel...pulling him into the real world...

"Amanda?" my voice was a whisper at first, opting for what was potentially the easiest way and also should be the simplest to determine if I could even do without some sort of preparation. "Sister Mary Helen?" I called louder.

I had been carefully scanning the area as I spoke, gaze going upward and downward. After a moment, my eyes caught sight of a figure standing in the near distance, a man propped casually against the wall...Freddy Krueger. I gasped, swallowing hard as I backpedaled into the chains again. He chuckled upon my noticing him. _Shit. Shitshitshitshit_... My internal curses found their way from my brain for my mouth to emit, becoming a high-pitched yell upon feeling the cold, wet links hanging from above, curl around my arms and wrap themselves tightly around my body to keep me from moving...except to struggle enough that it frustrated me, and played into this psychopath's fantasy.

"SHIT!"

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" he bellowed, taking slow paces forward and coming into better view. He was as described by the other victims...horrendously scarred and deformed almost as if a vat of acid had been poured over him. His clothes, dirty, ragged, and ugly. And he was wearing the same glove that I had bought this morning...the same glove I had rightfully, yet stupidly denied to sell to his granddaughter... I realized then that I had said the _other_ victims... No! I wouldn't become another statistic...

"It's been a while," he purred, vanishing into the air and then flashing back into view directly in front of me, "And you smell...sooo sweet."

I tugged on the chains holding me in place, "Leave me the fuck alone!"

My warning was unconvincing, instead sounding like a childish plea, making the sadist laugh once more, "Feisty too," he lifted his claw, trailing its blades upward from my thighs to my stomach, lingering on my chest momentarily before scratching at my neck. He grinned, "A beautiful little girl such as yourself must have equally delicious little friends."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:: Am I foreshadowing a Jason x Reader fanfiction in the future on this same timeline? Hm...  
Fun fact: The police could still confiscate the weapons, even if legal to own, if the car was impounded or every passenger was arrested. This happened with my wife before.  
Schrodinger's cake- a reference to Schrodinger's cat, meaning a scenario in which both possibilities are truth until it is proven that one is factual and the other is not. Haha #BadScienceJokes**


	5. Chapter 5: Freddy's Coming forWho?

_Get off of me, pervert! Stop! Asshole! You don't scare me!_ and at least a dozen other things to say came to mind upon feeling his blades tug at the clothes I wore as if he were deciding on which way he wanted to eat me. Yet, I said nothing. Instead, I just stood there studying him curiously as I contemplated my escape. This was _the_ Freddy Krueger, after all. The infamous Springwood Slasher turned dream demon...my near obsession for about a year now. I couldn't just run away from such a grand opportunity, could I?

"Now there's a look I haven't seen in ages," the burnt man suddenly purred before jolting forward and grabbing the chains still holding me. The sudden shaking would have normally brought a gasp, but I was too focused on his intense amber eyes boring into me, "What's in your head, kitten?" he rasped, our noses almost touching.

"I..." my attempt to answer fell short, my mind seemingly taken over, the world around me becoming nothing but those auborn spheres staring at me...taking control.

 _He feeds on fear. He's good at finding out what hurts the most._ The warnings from the testimonies concerning Freddy's kills through use of the dream realm returned to me. Was he...reading my mind? _What frightens you, little girl?_ Now it was his voice speaking inside my head. My brain pushed back against him, refusing to become his next victim...refusing to allow him to see this inner most part of me...my secrets. Rattling the chains wrapped around me, my entire body began to struggle. I wasn't afraid of Freddy...I was afraid of...fear. Being afraid frightened me.

 _He got inside your head. You get inside of his._ More words from people who fought him in the past. That was it! If he could force his way inside my mind...that means if I let him...just a little...then I could use that connection to creep into his as well. Slowly, I allowed him to drill into my brain, my thoughts. I let him come in bit by bit, making it seem as if I were losing this battle of wills. That way he wouldn't suspect what I had planned until it was too late. If this didn't work...I might be royally fucked for having focused my energy on attempting this trick instead of breaking out of my binds.

I could feel his essence pricking at my own, eager to see what made me tick. Every thought, every part of me, kept sight on that feeling and imagined myself standing next to it, ready to reach out and grasp it at the right moment. Gradually, Freddy's lips curled into a triumphant smirk, knowing he had won. Doing my best to remain still and refrain from expressing anything other than feigned worry, my imaginary hand shot out, clutching the strands of his energy that were prying into my privacy. I didn't know how easy it would be for him to see what was going on and put a stop to it, so I moved rapidly to dive into the stream that he had sent into my brain, focusing on reaching his core from my own.

There was an incredible, stabbing pain then as if someone had plunged a dagger into my skull. Coupling the experience was a bright light enveloping my entire sight, down to my own body as if I had disappeared and become part of the white. However, the intensity started to ease away quickly into different colors that began taking forms of their own until the transformation was complete and I was left in a familiar place.

1428 Elm Street.

Freddy wasn't there. I was no longer in chains nor could I feel the damp environment of the boiler room. In its place were the row of homes lining that old Springwood road, the day sunny and warm with a gentle breeze wafting back and forth. The house that I had seen in person for the first time only hours ago looked very different, yet had the same strange draw. Its white paint was pure and new, the green shingles each in their appropriate places, and the door was painted a bright red instead of being covered by a plain sheet of wood.

I scanned the area around me, noting the perfectly trimmed yards and antique yet contemporary vehicles parked down the side of the street or in the driveways of various homes. Even the roads seemed complete and without the slightest flaw- no cracks and no potholes. I turned around to face Freddy's old home once more, taking a deep breath in before strolling up the sidewalk and instinctively raising a fist to knock. _Oh, right._ I shook myself from the polite gesture, remembering that it was just a dream and rather reached down to open it myself.

Just as my hand was about to rest on the door handle, I heard a yell from the backyard that caused me to jerk my arm away from the door and my head to twist abruptly to the sound. I backed off of the porch and strolled carefully around the perimeter of the home until I could see the tiny opening, adorned by a white arbor crawling with green vines, that led to the back of it. I stepped through the archway carefully, poking my head out in front and peering around the structures to see what I was about to be upon.

Even when I was standing completely on the back lawn, I saw nothing. Nobody was there and there was no hint of unrest. The garden was in beautiful order, the grass was bare, and there were no toys or tools laying anywhere. Making careful paces further in, I finally saw it...the only sign of sentient life recently about was a spilled glass of tea sitting atop the patio table, the contents still pouring off its side and onto the cushion of the lawn chair that was slightly pulled out of its place.

I crept nearer to the scene, glancing around nervously thinking I would be pounced at some point. Upon reaching the furniture, I caught sight of something else out of the corner of my vision. It was a basement, its white wooden doors flung open to reveal darkness inside. Standing where I was, I stared at it for a moment until I could hear noise coming from within. It sounded like a man...cursing and stumbling about. Was it...could that be Freddy? Had I been successful in getting into his memory?

I trotted closer to the entrance, hesitating at the top of the stairs. Inhaling sharply, I reminded myself that I needed to know what was going on...I needed to witness this memory before I was pulled out. It was my best shot at defending against him and also...perhaps my only chance to take advantage of the situation I had been presented with. I let the breath out as I began to descend the stairs, the his words becoming clearer.

"Aw, come on, buddy. Is that any way to treat an old friend?" Freddy asked, his tone thick.

"Shhhhh. Shut up! SHUT UP!" an unknown male voice growled back.

Wait. He wasn't by himself? There was someone else with him? Who? I eased down onto the last step, for some reason trying to be entirely quiet though of course these were shadows and had no knowledge of my presence.

"Calm down," Freddy soothed slyly, "Why are you getting so worked up?"

"GO AWAY! I don't need you! I don't need you anymore!" the other man yelled, his voice shaking and frightened.

"Everyone _needs_ a little fun. That's all I want...for us to have a little fun."

Another pace successfully took me off of the staircase and onto the floor. One more had me nearing the middle of the underground store room. As I began the third, a man fell into view, his form barely distinguishable in the darkness of the low level. His back was to me, hands on his head, clutching onto short, dirty blonde hair, as he hunched over. Slowly, he straightened his back, his white button down falling into place above his black pants.

"There, see? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Freddy's raspy voice cooed as the man stood.

I stared quizzically at the figure, beginning to step forward again, desperate to see where Freddy was and why he was taunting this guy. However, right as I moved, the man spun around, glaring directly at me even though I _knew_ he couldn't see me...he couldn't, right? No, this was just a memory...and yet, those eyes...those angry and intense... _amber_ eyes...

Suddenly, I was jerked from the scene around me, the blur of light and then color that had brought me to it, rapidly working in reverse to throw me back into the boiler room. I fell to the ground, banging my knees against the jagged steel of the factory floor, finally free from those useless links that had previously held me in place. The sensation of having the wind kicked out of me kept me from cursing at the ache pulsing in my head from the experience, but somehow I managed to look up and rest my vision on the burnt man in the filthy striped sweater whose mind I had invaded.

The fury I expected to flow from those spheres and through his entire being was absent, shock taking their place. Freddy had backpedaled away from me, but kept his gaze on my body as I was slowly able to lift myself from the floor, planting my feet firmly and readying for the coming battle. The only problem was...I wasn't sure exactly what I had witnessed so how the hell was I supposed to use it against him? I focused on the demon positioned several feet away from me now, hoping that perhaps this problem would answer itself...

Freddy appeared flabbergasted. The confusion as to what had just happened or at least to _how_ it had happened was slowly replaced with a snarl as he lifted his arm and pointed a blade at me, "You think you're pretty smart, huh, bitch?

I swallowed hard, unsure and without a plan. My gaze fell to his claw. It looked exactly like the one resting on my nightstand... I wasn't given time for further thought before he was upon me again, grabbing hold of my shoulders and rotating our bodies so that my back thudded against the steamy pipes of the wall.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll get off of me," I bluffed, hoping that my little stunt had unsettled him enough that he might consider the possibility that I wasn't ordinary prey.

"You watch your pretty little mouth!" he snapped, once more raising his claw, readying to swipe it across my face.

But something strange happened then. When I saw the glove, blades extended in the air, my thoughts flashed with the remembrance of the weapon displayed on my bedside table along with the feeling of having my own hand within it, curling and flicking those knives myself. My brow furrowed, bewildered upon seeing not blades, but Freddy's bare hand falling onto my cheek as if to slap instead of gash me.

He, too, was bemused by the rapture of his glove, an angered expression jolting to his naked hand as he cursed, "What the fuck?!"

Then, I felt the weight of the weapon upon my own arm which had been hanging at my side. Carefully, I lifted it in the same moment that Freddy pushed his palms against the building behind me in order to stand fully upright and decipher the situation. His eyes soon found my newly bladed fingers as I put them in front of my face, smiling wickedly before putting my vision on the dream demon and purring, "Looks like you're in my world now...bitch."


	6. Chapter 6: The Theory

"HUUUUUNNNHHHH!" I woke up with a sharp exhale as I shot up in bed.

 _What the fuck?_ Panting to catch my breath, hands reached instinctively to my sides to give me proper balance against the mattress. The moment they settled, I felt something pinch the skin on top of one. I raised the arm to peer down at where the sensation had been to see that I was wearing Freddy's glove. My eyes shot to the table beside the bed and sure enough, the weapon was missing. Had he pushed me out of the dream? Gaze back on my claw, a smile spread across my face. He _was_ real. I carefully extended and retracted the blades, gleeful at the sheer awesomeness of this discovery. Then, another thought hit me. _Fuck._ He was real! That meant everyone was in danger!

I slowly pulled the glove off and flipped it over, silently studying it as I contemplated this situation. Maybe they weren't... I had only gotten a glimpse into his memory before I was pulled out so he couldn't have had much time in my mind either, right? That means it wasn't likely he'd been able to grab hold of anyone else to jump to so he could very well still be stuck with me. And if I could do all I had, then certainly I was a worthy opponent...one that could take him down or...control him.

Throwing my legs off the side of the mattress, I put the weapon back in its spot and simultaneously picked up my phone to check the time. Only four am. Dylan was probably still asleep. I opened up my messages, shooting him a quick text before getting up the rest of the way, retrieving my laptop, and getting back in bed where I sat working on more video editing until he texted back which was at about four-thirty.

D- _ugh no. been havin trouble sleeping  
_ _what's up?_

M- well idk how to say this without sounding crazy so ill just say it...Freddy is real

D- _...  
you mean the dream demon part_

M- Yeah...bear with me

D- _ok_

I proceeded to tell him about the whole experience. I wasn't really nervous sharing with him because I knew he wouldn't judge me. He and I were alike, we both tried to keep an open mind. That being said, I was also aware that the possibility I had gone off my rocker would stay present too. All I could do was wait, act as was normal for me to show him I wasn't insane, and let the situation unfold.

M- so?

D- _your not fuckin around with me are you?_

M- no, I'm serious!

D- _hm...  
ok then what are you going to do now_

M- ...idk  
think I should go back to sleep

D- _prob not until you have a plan  
Youre gonna kill him, right?_

M- ...

D- _?_

M- I dont know if theres a point...i mean every time hes gotten killed in the past, he just comes back. there has to b a better way..

D- _hm maybe trap him somehow? where he cant travel_

M- thats what I was thinking...know anything about voodoo? lol

D- _LMAO no_

M- k well I'm gonna do some research  
you're not going to sleep are u?

D- _nah  
just in case you havent lost it xD_

M- fuck off lol  
help me research then...and figure out what that memory was!

D- _fine :P_

I set the phone down and closed the programs I had open on the computer, clicking on my web browser instead. The first thing I typed in was _how to control a malicious spirit_. After scrolling past the tarot reading ads, the actual results were a bunch of things on how to banish a demon, how to detect if you were being haunted by a ghost or a demon, and other means of protection.

 _How to trap a demon_ was my next search. One link read 'Witchcraft for Dummies! How to trap a demon.' Okay maybe that would help. The article was hardly a couple of paragraphs and more or less only said to draw a picture of a pentagram and then conjure the demon and it would be trapped. All in all, it seemed like a crackpot site just looking for hits. Likewise, most of the other results didn't give proper information. Many were pictures or pretty vague on instructions.

Next search: _Witchcraft how to trap a spirit that has attacked you.  
_ And the results: Prayer against Witchcraft Attacks...  
3 Signs Witchcraft is Attacking You...  
Ex-Witch Reveals how to Stop Witchcraft Attacks Against You...  
Catching and Binding Spirits.

I clicked on the last one: _There are many ways to catch a spirit and many different styles of traps to do it with. What is a spirit trap? It is a device used to trick a spirit into ensnaring itself much like a mouse trap baited with cheese or peanut butter. The idea behind a basic spirit trap is fascination. The trap is meant to distract the spirit from its mischievous or malevolent purpose by tempting them with something they cannot resist._

I reached a hand to my chin in thought. Interesting... What would be something Freddy couldn't resist? The site went on to describe that these traps were often physical things that witches created, usually with thread or yarn and often incorporating animal bones or feathers. The idea was that the witch would weave part of her energy into the item, fooling the spirit into thinking that it was grabbing hold of her when in actuality, it was entangling itself within the material of the trap. Oh, so that's how dream catchers worked...

My next search, _binding spells_ , brought up some more bullshit articles as well as several warnings against the use of such witchcraft. Many, apparently, would not use them because it was tantamount to enslaving another spirit and therefore could easily taint one's own energy or karmic balance. I stopped a moment to think about that. Was I worried about darkening my soul? Eh, not really. Besides, I wasn't doing this to be cruel, I had a very honorable reason for it...though it'd be a lie to say I wasn't also wanting to extend my time with Freddy. This wasn't the kind of shit that happens every day, you know.

So I continued looking more into binding. There was more information regarding the 'devil traps' that I'd already read up on and more or less, everything else about this type of witchcraft was the same- creating an item with one's energy in it to taunt the spirit into going after it so they would become imprisoned. I glanced over at the glove. It was his connection to this world...could I endow it with my essence and use that? Hm...I wasn't sure that would work...these people had been very clear that you need to make the item yourself.

I wasn't the most artistically talented person, but there had to be something I could do...I wonder if I could use the written word as a creation or if it needed to be something more than a piece of paper? I looked back to some of the traps pictured on the internet. A lot of them were just yarn that had be weaved together with knots here and there. There were even small things like simple pieces carved from wood with different symbols etched into them like pentagrams or other sigils.

Suddenly my phone buzzed. Someone was calling...Dylan. I quickly answered, "What's up?"

"I was thinking about that memory of his," he started.

"Yeah?"

"Well, my dad has taught me a lot about psychology over the years and...I don't think there were two people in vision," Dylan informed.

"No? You think it was just-"

"Just Freddy," he finished. "From the sounds of it, you were seeing Fred Krueger from before he had died. I think...I think maybe he had different personalities."

I paused, "You mean like split personality?"

"It's technically called Disassociate Identity Disorder, but yeah."

"But everything I've studied about him...they said he was a psychopath," I pointed.

"Antisocial Personality Disorder," Dylan corrected.

"Okay, butthead, you know what I mean," I jeered friendly, "So you don't think that?"

"No, I think he had both," my friend mused.

"Explain."

I could hear the boy take in a breath to prepare himself, "All of his actions that were previously known- the serial killer trait, if you will- is indicative of psychopathy. There are next to no serial killers who weren't diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder at some point. However, going on that memory...it makes me think that perhaps there were two personalities- one being the psychopath that killed all those kids, and then the second being the upstanding parts of him...the part that held control for so many years and was known as an excellent family man."

"Generally with psychopaths, there is no down-time," I picked up, "Meaning he would have had many kills between those in his childhood and the time he was the Springwood Slasher, but there is nothing to show that there were any during that time at all."

"Exactly," Dylan affirmed.

"How do we know he wasn't just schizophrenic?" I pondered, "And that he gave into what the voices told him to do."

"Schizophrenia isn't like that," my friend's voice suddenly seemed sad, "Schizophrenics have been hugely demonized, but the truth is that they are more a danger to themselves than to anyone else. Did you know that schizophrenia has the highest suicide rate among people with mental problems, next to depression?"

My brow furrowed, "No, I didn't."

"Mhm," he continued, "You see, schizophrenics are categorized by disordered thought and irrational fear. Whereas psychopaths tend to be fearless and confident, schizophrenics are usually paranoid and afraid. Of course, there _are_ violent schizophrenics just like there are non-violent psychopaths...but the simple fact of the matter is that the prevalent mindset of a schizophrenic is to kill themselves before doing outward harm and that of a psychopath is to just kill others often the only reason being because they feel like it."

"Oh. I see..." I muttered in thought, "Freddy sought out others to kill, there was a plan to it. You're saying that if he was a schizophrenic that had given in to what voices were telling him to do, he wouldn't have been of clear enough mind to properly plan it all so thoroughly."

"Yes," Dylan agreed.

"Well, that means that this separate, psychotic personality was present when he was a kid and at some point it went away," I contemplated, "My best guess is that once he was free of his abusive foster father, he was able to relax enough that there was nothing to bring the violent Freddy out...so what happened that triggered it to come back?"

"Beats me," the boy spoke on the other end of the line. "Have you come up with anything on trapping him or whatever?"

"Uh...not much; I'm still looking," it wasn't a lie, yet at the same time I didn't want to really share anything I'd found until I was absolutely certain of what I wanted to do. I didn't know how permanent these things for for one, and if Freddy really did have a good side and an evil side...I didn't really want to be the one to trap the decent part of him with the part he no doubt despised...especially if it was for eternity.

"I hate to suggest it, but that Lisa Zane might have some insight into this...I mean, if you want to head back to Springwood," Dylan said, "I'm sure Dad would be ok with it, knowing we didn't have time to finish everything yesterday or whatever."

"The last thing I want to do is talk to her," I complained, "She's not going to understand this from any other angle. She called him trash and was adamant about cutting him off. Just the way she spoke about it was so hateful. Not that I blame, her but I highly doubt she'd be willing to take this into consideration. Being in his bloodline...she might be crazy herself...dangerous, I mean... I do want to go back to the factory at least, though."

"Alright, fair enough. I'll talk to Dad as soon as he's up and will let you know what's up," my friend decided.

"Sounds good. I'll just leave a note for Mom if she's not around. K, bye," I slid the phone away from my ear as I hung up, and then put my attention back on my computer.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Search results were described around what actually came up when I typed those things into search. Article excerpt on 'Catching and Binding Spirits' care of  
 _/2015/05/17/catching-and-binding-spirits/_


	7. Chapter 7: Make a Choice

I found myself in a room, surrounded by little girls' things. Dolls, stuffed animals, a toy chest...a wardrobe filled with frilly dresses and denim overalls. The walls were a soft white-pink color decorated with flowers and light shone brightly through the one window situated opposite a twin bed with a plush comforter and lacy pillows. Spinning around, I tried to make sense of it. When had I gotten here? Where was here?

I stepped over to the door and reached for the handle, but suddenly, it started turning on its own. Backpedaling slowly away in preparation for whatever intruder might be on the other side of the wood, I bumped into what I assumed was the bed. However, an arm reached around my waist, grasping me tightly so that I fell against the body behind me as their second hand, no- claw, rushed to clutch my neck. As those blades pressed into the sensitive skin of my throat, my own hands jumped up to try and pull the weapon down, but its owner was stronger.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Huh?!" the familiar voice rasped angrily.

"I don't know! I just appeared here!" I choked out honestly, realizing I must have fallen asleep again.

Freddy's hands shifted to grab each of my shoulders as he pushed our bodies forward slightly enough for him to spin me around to face him. Expecting to lay sights on those intense amber eyes, I readied my inner strength to stave him off. However, when I was instead met with greyish-blue spheres, my guard lowered and I simply stared back. His eyes were just as strong as before yet it was a different type of ferocity. Rather than psychotic anger or sadistic infatuations...it was an amount of distress like I'd never seen. He was...hurting. Not physically either...this pain was deep inside.

"How dare you go into her room!" he continued to growl, yet it inspired no fear in me.

"I'm sorry," my voice calmed, "I honestly didn't mean to. I don't even know where I am."

I didn't know if it was because he felt there was no startle, no concern in my being, or if there was something more...something different going on, but he slowly let go of my shoulders and took a pace backward, keeping those eyes on me the entire time. Once he had taken that second step, his vision finally left me and went instead to one of the dolls sitting atop a chest of drawers. Carefully, he picked it up and began stroking its long blonde locks. Only then did I realize that his glove had disappeared.

"Freddy?" I tried with a whisper.

He didn't answer. He just stood there, playing with the doll's hair, head bowed upon it.

"Is this Katherine's room?" I asked slightly louder.

There was a brief pause, long enough for me to think he was still ignoring me. However, as I opened my mouth to speak again, he finally said something, "You have my glove, don't you?"

"Yes," I answered, "I bought it from a museum that was closing down."

"Why?" his tone was low, almost accusatory, "Why would you want it?"

I felt awkward telling him. It was like...he was judging me for wanting his old weapon, "I...have a sort of fascination with serial killers," I admitted, "I've written a lot of papers about you for school."

He scoffed, finally moving to set eyes on me. They were still the saddened blue ones...and he was, in fact, judging me, "Silly girl. You have no idea the horrible agony...the needless torture that...that people like me have caused. How can you see me as anything except horrid?"

"How do you know I don't?" I retorted.

"I may be dead, but I'm not dumb," his eyes hardened just a bit, "You're not interested in learning about me for some noble cause such as seeking to stop others like me from hurting people in the future. Your interest is positive...childish."

Taking personal offense to his perception of me, I stepped forward heavily, narrowing my vision, "At least I'm not _actually_ hurting people. At least _I'm_ channeling the things less desirable about me into something harmless."

Freddy's eyes widened, clearly not expecting me to throw the insult back in his face. They lingered on me a moment longer before tearing away, looking at the doll in his hand again, "Maybe you're right...I wish I would have succeeded in distracting myself."

 _Shit. Now I felt guilty for saying it._

"I know it wasn't you," I offered, "I know it was someone else...someone else inside you that killed those kids."

The man kept staring at the doll for a while until abruptly, he slung it against the wall, causing the porcelain head to crack on impact before violently lifting his gaze to glare at me with evil amber eyes, "There is no one else! I'm him and he's me!"

The demon lunged for me, claw slashing at the air between us. I jumped back and took hold of the door knob, quickly thrusting the room open and running out...right into the lowest floor of the factory.

"Motherfucker!" I cursed, spinning to see that the home was now completely gone and I was surrounded by the humid, metallic environment from before. _Now what?_

"Boo!" Freddy's cackle sounded directly behind me as two snakelike appendages slithered around my body, wrapping my legs together and trying to pin my arms to my sides. I managed to keep one free, but the demon successfully tied the rest of me down. As the two serpents, clad in red and green stripes made their way to the end, Freddy's claw curling above my face like the head of the beast, my mind snapped into gear and I knew what to do...

Studying the glove readying to strike me, I called upon the weapon I had left back on my table. As I did, the claw rearing before me disappeared as I claimed it onto my own free hand. When the act was complete, I used its blades to slash down the slithery arms wrapped around me, successfully causing them to shrink away from their losing battle. The ugly snakes spun my body in circles as they unwrapped, making me dizzy until I was finally able to cease moving.

I expected the next scene to be either evil Freddy being agitated and trying to keep fighting me, to slink away as he contemplated his next move like last time, or his good side to reappear and insist I kill him or something. However, none of these happened. Instead, when I was still out of the final rotation, I found myself cuddled into the burnt man's arms.

Standing in the boiler room, my form snug with his, he threw normal arms around my waist and hugged me tightly as he set his chin down on my shoulder and whispered into my ear, "You're a clever one, aren't you? Mm...and you have a soft spot for old Freddy. How...nice," his words were thick...the last one dripping with mischievous intent.

"I don't have a soft spot for you!" I spat, "I feel sorry for the other man- the good man that is trapped with you!"

"Oh, but sweet piglet," he squeezed at my waist, "That's not the whole story is it? _I'm_ the one who drew your attention. You cared for me long before you even had an idea about...my weaker side."

"I don't...I-" for some reason I stumbled on my response. It was true that I hadn't known about the split personality until today, but I didn't _care_ for him...not the way he was making it seem...did I? I was incredibly interested in him...had been for some time, but did it extend into actually caring about him?

I thought back to Friday at school when Jennifer and her shithead friends had accused me of defending the Springwood Slasher. I hadn't been defending what he did; I was merely outlining how the trauma of his upbringing could have molded his justification of the things he had done. Perhaps he felt that his actions were necessary to punish the guilty appropriately- the guilty in his case being those who mistreated him growing up simply due to the circumstances of his birth. It was the story that his reason for hunting the children of Springwood was to show his bullies how cruel it was to single out and mistreat kids.

Now, of course, he enjoyed what he did. That was apparent. I had went on to explain that his abusive upbringing could have desensitized him when it came to harming others, especially children. Furthermore, having grown up where such treatment was casual had tuned his mind to find enjoyment in pain- giving and receiving- rather than let it actually bother him, let himself gain control of it. It was how he survived. At no point had I excused his actions and I still would not excuse them...explaining and trying to understand the reasoning for something, even horrible things, was not the same as saying it was okay. But it is through understanding that we learn and can move into a better world.

I did feel I understood Freddy...something that he clearly had never had before...so yes, maybe, in a way...I _did_ care for him.

"Heheh," the demon chuckled, his breath hot on my neck, "So why don't you help Freddy out?"

He lowered his mouth from my ear, brushing it just underneath the lobe. I could feel his charred flesh scratch against me as he parted his lips and planted a soft kiss there, sucking on my throat. I couldn't help a small moan, to which he chuckled again before slowly sucking harder, pulling more and more of my flesh into his mouth until finally, he bit down onto me...hard. I jumped at the sensation, but he simply pulled me back onto him, arms tight around my waist. However, I then remembered the glove on my hand and lifted it, throwing the blades against the side of his face and slicing through his burns.

"FUCKING BITCH!" he growled, letting go of me and cowering into the blow.

As I fled, turning around and putting _my_ claw in the air between us threateningly, I noticed that he had stayed just as he was...not moving, not speaking...and not looking at me. I watched him for several moments, until gradually, he let his hand, now bloodied, from where I had struck his cheek.

His gaze remained down as he spoke, "Please...just destroy it...don't let yourself come back here."

Lowering my weapon, I ducked my head, trying to see his face, "Freddy?"

He remained still and silent, my own motion continuing, knowing that the only way for me to know which one of him I was talking to was to see his eyes. As I inched nearer, his head suddenly shot up, cruel amber eyes upon me as _his_ claw reached forward in an attempt to slice me. My own gaze fell to my naked hands as I pulled my torso back to dodge the strike. But I didn't move away. Instead, I laid sight back on him as he once more retreated those blades, slowly falling to his knees and curling into himself. I could hear him breathing...heavily. His inhales were sharp and his exhales were labored...as if it was physically hurting him just to draw breath.

"What's wro-" I started.

"Get the fuck out of here!" he yelled, setting blue eyes on me that rapidly changed to amber as he spoke, "Oh princess, don't leave poor Freddy all alone!" he chuckled.

I lowered my weapon upon realizing that though his eyes were changing, the lighter side of him was keeping control of his body, wrapping his arms tightly around it as he stayed in the same crouched position, "I'm not going to leave you...but I'm not bringing anyone else to you either..." I replied.

"If you really want to help me," he rasped before his eyes became blue again, "You'll destroy that goddamn glove!" he cried.

As I watched tears well and then soak his face, my mouth fell open to respond...but I couldn't seem to find the strength to say anything. _What was I supposed to say?_ I couldn't just destroy the glove. I mean, I didn't want to...not just because I liked the gift, but because if I did that, then Fred and the Springwood Slasher would be stuck together for all eternity. Surely there was another way I could help...could free him.

"What are you waiting for?" the sobbing man shouted, looking back down at the ground. Then suddenly, he vanished, reappearing directly in front of me, amber eyes boring into my soul. His dirty teeth were bared and he growled angrily, "FUCKING DO SOMETHING, KITTEN!"


	8. Chapter 8: Back to the Boiler

"Damn, are you okay?!"

As I awoke to Dylan's worried voice, he stopped shaking me and removed his hands from my shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm...I'm fine..." I answered, sitting up more comfortably in the seat of the car and looking out the window. "I see we made it back to the factory. Any signs of Lisa Zane since we got to town?"

"Nope," Dylan informed, "The whole place is much deader than it was yesterday too. So you gonna tell me about your dream just now?"

I looked back over at the guy who was wearing a knowing yet worried smile, "Well, I mean not much to tell other than your theory was confirmed."

"That's good news," he reached back and grabbed his camera bag.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your encounters with him are continuing to be easy. You've sustained no damage and each time, he's shown weakness...or strength, depending on with side of him we're talking about," the boy observed.

"You're saying you think there's a good chance we'll be able to help him?" I surmised.

"Help him?"

"Like figure out how to free him from his evil side," I rephrased.

"Yeah, I think so. I don't know what it is about you, but you've got him fighting," Dylan mused. "According to all the information you've gathered, it's certainly new behavior for him."

I sat back and considered this. Was it really me or had Freddy been gone for long enough that he'd been able to progress? Not having a feed for so long might be what is giving him this strength. Thinking back to our fist encounter when I had pushed myself into his mind though...I almost had to believe that it was because of me. What if I by triggering that memory, I had pulled Fred out and now he was trying to overcome the slasher?

"This must be a pretty big deal for you, huh?" Dylan continued once he'd finished preparing the video recorder in his hand.

"Meeting Freddy, you mean?" I guessed.

"Yeah, with how big of a crush you have and all," he laughed.

"It's not a crus-" I started to snap before remembering it was just my best friend joking about something he had before.

"Woah..." he said awkwardly after I'd silenced myself, "Now I know you're not okay. What's on your mind, hun?"

"I..." Why _had_ I taken offense to that? It was Dylan. I knew he didn't mean anything by it and even if it had been someone else that said it, I'd likely have shrugged it off with a 'whatever' and moved on. But it was like...things had gotten more tense ever since I'd actually been able to meet the man, er demon? that I'd be fixated on for so long. Maybe Freddy was right. Maybe I had developed a soft spot for him. But a crush?

I pictured those unforgettable eyes of his. The fiery ferocity of the psychotic ambers...the intensity of the imprisoned ices... I recalled how hard he had tried to remain in control. I pitied and admired the man who had cried in his struggle to keep himself from harming others...and at the same time I felt drawn to the unrestrained demon that acted with such aggressive glee. There was something deviously attractive about it.

"Hey," Dylan's voice poked back in, a bit softer this time. I twisted my neck to look at him, not speaking my inner confusion about these feelings, "You can talk to me about anything. I'm not going to judge you. What kind of friend would I be if I did?"

"Thanks, Dyl," I offered a smile. "To be honest, I'm not really sure what's going on in my brain right now."

"Seems like you do like Freddy," he pointed, "Really it's the only reason you would have gotten upset."

"Or I'm just tired of people assuming I like him that way," I argued.

"No, if you were tired of it because of that, then you'd stop talking about him and stuff or just ignore the jabs," Dylan countered.

I took in a deep breath, "Maybe... And that doesn't bother you? If I had a crush on someone like him?"

My friend shrugged, "I mean... I don't think it would make a healthy relationship and not just, you know, due to him being dead or inhuman," his solemn tone broke into a smirk, "But you like who you like. It's hard not to."

I couldn't help except to grin in return, "You're so awesome. You're going to make some man an incredible husband one day."

"Ha! Thanks," he blushed, "However, I will say that if he ever hurts you, I will fuck him up. Human, demon, or god, I don't care- nobody messes with my bestie."

"Only if I didn't want him to hurt me, that is," I chuckled.

"Ooo you kinky bitch!" Dylan giggled.

"Alright, alright," I laughed, leaning to the side and popping my door open, "Let's get to filming."

We both got out of the car, him with his camera and me with the hammer, and made our way to the boarded up entrance of the abandoned power plant. As I began prying the wood from the doorway, Dylan stood watch to make sure nobody came upon us. Fortunately, the streets stayed clear and I'd soon broken us in. That was when he started recording. We carefully stepped over the broken glass in the entry frames and once completely inside, Dylan flipped on the little light attached to his camera.

"Damn it stinks in here!" he complained, "What is that?"

"I don't know..." I crept in further, "Stagnant water? Definitely smells old as shit...maybe some actual shit too."

My friend laughed at the joke while keeping close behind me. The building was mostly gutted, leaving it largely empty except for the copious amounts of dust, dirt, and random debris from the crumbling walls. The first part we stepped into seemed like a lobby of sorts. There was a large, rounded counter near the middle of the room.

I quickly made my way around it and laid my arms atop, looking directly into the camera and switching to my TV persona, "This is clearly the reception area. Standing here, I can picture Fred Krueger walking into work each day, just like any other regular joe, greeting his oblivious coworker with a smile as he heads to clock in..." I tilted my head and changed to a quizzical expression, "I wonder if any of the people around him had a clue at all?"

I held the look for a few moments, waiting to make sure we had a good cutoff stretch on the film before relaxing and joining Dylan in a short laugh.

"You're good at getting in the zone with this kind of thing, aren't you?" he observed.

"Eh. I have my moments," I had already turned my attention to the scanning the spots behind the desk.

Dylan instantly shed his light on where I was looking, but there was nothing to find. I lifted my eyes and began leading us to the hallway directly on the other side of where we'd been. There were a few small rooms which had probably been used as offices as well as a larger, ovular one that was no doubt for conference. Venturing further, we found the entrance to the actual factory floors.

"Looks like we're getting closer," I grinned over my shoulder at the camera.

Stepping out onto the metal ground and gazing over the thin steel railing, a sense of deja vu washed over me. Suddenly it was like I was in the dream world again. All sound died down and I could hear nothing except for the distant drips of water and those useless chains waving in their unnatural breeze. Losing myself in the memory, I began feeling heat rise up from somewhere farther below.

Without a thought, I started to seek this warmth out. Strolling alongside the railing, making cautious paces across each floor and then small steps down each staircase, I could feel the heat getting stronger...could hear a roaring fire getting closer... It was only a matter of minutes until I was standing in front of a broken steel door. Halting momentarily, I realized the room beyond was both the source of the flame and of the foul odor we had detected earlier.

Finally, I decided to press forward, finding the door was extremely heavy. Even so, I didn't give up. Eyeing the steel, I deciphered the best way to maneuver it so I could get through. It still didn't budge at first, but strangely enough and somewhat abruptly, I was able to lift it. When my vision settled out on my intended path, new noises came. They sounded like there was a person traipsing about in the room I was heading for...like they were shuffling something around in the crackling fire.

Turning the corner, I spotted a shadow and once more stopped...this time inhaling sharply, gulping as I laid a shaky foot forward...and then another...another... When I came fully into the boiler room, I saw the brightness of many embers dancing in the oven on the other end, but no person.

The heat was overwhelming as was the smell... I don't think I had ever sweat so much in my life! And the anxiety over the odd ordeal wasn't helping with that either. I inched over to the stove, eyes darting nervously about to make sure nobody snuck up on me. As I neared, I swallowed the saliva collecting in my throat. Leaning over in front of the opening, I fell back, coughing and covering my nose to recover from the insanely strong waft of that horrible aroma!

"What the fuck _is_ that?" I growled, taking a breath and slowly easing toward the oven fire again. Although it was difficult to get a good look of what was burning, I persisted, narrowing my sight and peering as intently as I could. Was that...what the... My eyes followed the outline of something solid to its end where I could just barely make out the shape of a tiny...blackened...foot.

Unusual as it may have been, my first instinct was to study the form closer instead of jerking my head away and getting the fuck out of there. However, as I tried to make out more of the little body, I felt hands...no, claws...grab onto the back of my shoulders. I spun around, coming face to face with the Springwood Slasher. His burnt face curled into a contemptuous look as he growled at me.

"What are you doing?!"  
"What are you doing?"  
"What are you doing?"

Slowly the man's voice changed. Not to Fred's, not more intense... It didn't simply shift tones, it transformed entirely...into Dylan's voice. When my brain realized it was my friend talking to me and not the dream demon, the figure in front of me became the teenager as well.

"Fuck, are you okay? What the hell happened?" Dylan slowly removed his hands from me, but his demeanor remained concerned.

"I..." my brow furrowed, "I saw..." I glanced back at the empty and cold stove behind me. My body was drenched even though the air around us was chilly. The smell was still there, but wasn't nearly as strong as it had been a moment ago. "I thought...I thought I was dreaming or something."

The boy took a deep breath, "No, you just kind of started walking off... I tried to talk to you. I kept calling your name, but you ignored me."

"I didn't hear you..." I confessed.

"Apparently you didn't see or feel me either," he observed, "Like when I helped you lift that broken door... You were kind of freaking me out, hun."

I looked down at the camera he'd been holding idly in front of his chest with one hand and then back up at him, "Did you at least get it all on tape?"

Dylan stared at me for a moment, an incredulous expression on his face. Blinking twice, he broke into a scoff, "Goddammit," he laughed, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Is that a yes?" I grinned.

"Yeah," he smirked.


	9. Chapter 9: Connected

"Have you ever had anything like that happen before?" Dylan asked after we made it back up to the car.

"No," I shrugged, "Why? You think I made some sort of psychic connection or something?"

"Yeah, maybe," he confirmed, "When you pushed into his head that first time...I think it's made you sensitive to his mind. Kind of like being able to jump from yours to his."

"I guess being in the factory triggered the link then," I hummed, "So do you think what I saw was an imprint of him- like a memory- or was it really him back in the dream realm?"

"I don't know," Dylan sighed.

"Well, guess I need to talk to him again then," I concluded, leaning back in my seat and closing my eyes.

"Woah woah woah!" my friend exclaimed, "You're not going to try that right now, are you?"

"Well..." my brow furrowed as I lifted my lids. To be honest, I was just getting comfortable; I wasn't about to try anything. However now that he had said it, I began wondering when I should, "I'd assume having someone I can trust around at the time would be best so..."

The boy took a sharp inhale, "Alright, but what are you planning to do if he attacks you?"

I shrugged again, "Seems like I've been doing fine so far just winging it."

He stared at me a moment before replying, "I'd rather you not take the chance on your luck continuing."

"Hm... It's not entirely luck," I observed, "He's already made it clear he's mostly in control and when he hasn't been, the little mind tricks and simply getting away has worked. Besides," I added, "You're here to shake me out of it if I'm in trouble."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Dylan sighed in defeat, "Be careful."

"Duh," I stuck my tongue out and laughed before shutting my vision again.

 _Okay...how exactly do I go about this? Our minds are connected, so if I just think about him...focus really hard..._

What picture first came to my brain when I tried to visualize him was the burned man I had seen in the steam of the boiler room, but I didn't let myself stay on that image for long as it occurred to me perhaps that would summon me to his demonic side. Instead, I pushed that version from my head and thought instead of the man I had seen in the basement of 1428 Elm Street... He was nearly middle-aged, perhaps forty, yet he still looked pretty young... Thin, fairly tall, without wrinkles, and utterly captivating blueish grey eyes...

I smiled thinking about him...the fondness, however, didn't last... As my mind replayed it, the memory immediately rolled into that moment in which he shifted from pleasant to psychotic. Remembering my theory about drawing to the wrong side of him, I mentally fought against it...to no avail. Anxiety swept over me when I realized I was stuck and instead of ending where Freddy had ripped me from him and I was able to leave the dream, the memory continued. _His_ , not mine.

Jerking my eyes open seemed to be the only option left. I felt relieved when I found I still had control over my body and began sitting up and looking...but I had only lifted myself into another hallucination. I was in Dylan's mustang no longer, I was standing in Fred Krueger's basement, his possessed form turning and walking in my direction. _Shit! Could he see me? No, this was a memory, right? Like the first time I saw it. I'm just seeing more now..._

Even though it seemed he would simply walk through me, I couldn't resist stepping out of the way. Turning slowly to keep him in my sights, I watched as he strolled over to the other side of the dimly lit room and rounded the corner. With careful, slow paces, I followed after until I could see him again. Behind the shelves there, he had stopped in front of a row of tools hanging on the wall. I could just barely see that his head was tilting from side to side and at different angles as if he was searching for something. Straining to see better without getting any closer, I observed as he finally took something down though I couldn't tell what it was. Next, he grabbed what appeared to be a three-pronged weeder.

I found myself keenly interested in what was going to happen next. Peering harder into the shadows, I saw that he had started to twist around again. Just when he was about to face me though, the scene vanished and I was jolted into the boiler room and its familiar heat. Before I could question anything, hands were on the back of my shoulders, one of which ended in blades that sunk into my skin.

"SHIT!" I yelped as Freddy pulled me back firmly against his body.

"Hello again, kitten," he purred in my ear, his hot breath tickling my neck, "Miss me already?"

"I just..." I stammered, cutting my vision to the side to ensure it was who I thought. Yup; amber eyes. "Were you just burning something?" I asked while simultaneously attempting to gently pull away.

He tugged me back with as much force as before, growling. It seemed he was mellow for some reason...at least not overly aggressive or violent, so I stopped trying to remove myself from him. Letting my form fall into his, feeling the strength of his sturdy frame hug my own smaller one, I almost got the sense he was...protective of me.

"You didn't answer my question," I breathed, unsure of the situation.

"Mm...just rekindling some old flames," he chuckled.

So it _had_ been him currently that I'd connected to while exploring the power plant with Dylan. He said he was rekindling old... So the body in the boiler wasn't recent. He was reliving a past kill.

"Oh, I just thought maybe you-"

"Had gotten out of here?" he interrupted, voice cold, "No, you've been quite...a challenge so far."

 _Good. That means he hasn't hurt anyone yet._

I tried pulling away once more and this time was met with his razor fingers digging into my flesh even harder, tearing through my shirt and ripping the skin above my arm. I hissed at the pain yet managed to refrain from any other reaction. His other hand reached around my side, slithered up my stomach, and clutched my throat. I expected to be struggling for breath afterward, but his hold was loose.

"Tell me, kitten," he rasped in my ear, "Don't you have any friends that you shouldn't be wanting my company so bad?"

"I have-" I began to retort, briefly thinking of Dylan, before catching onto his trick, "You're not going to get me to let you near anyone else so you might as well not try!"

"HAH!" he scoffed as he spun me around and shoved me to the ground, pointing a single blade, "I thought you said you knew a lot about me! You should know I never give up."

I swallowed hard, picking my palms off of the grated metal they'd landed on to break my fall. Pulling them up to my lap and flipping them over to make sure they weren't injured, I contemplated how I should respond before moving off of the floor.

As far as the dream demon I'd learned about went, he was being quite soft. No doubt he was still deciphering his predicament, trying to decide his best course of action. For now, that obviously meant keeping me alive...and dare I say, somewhat content? I mean, if I was capable of establishing this psychic bond, then certainly he realized there were options for me to break it or to otherwise cut him off from our world...such as destroying the glove like his granddaughter suggested.

So in his mind, if he scared me away or pissed me off, then the chance of me not coming back was much greater. And I wasn't about to let him onto the fact that I'd be hard to get rid of. That led me to question of what it was _I_ wanted out of this arrangement. I _did_ want to free Fred from his psychotic other half, but last time I mentioned it, the demon not only came out- he was violent. I had to be cautious bringing up that topic again.

I sighed as I put hands on knees and pushed myself to stand, casually brushing the dust from my clothes, "So what's your plan then?" I placed my sight on him, "You going to try and invade my thoughts again? Didn't work too well for you last time," I taunted.

Freddy vanished and reappeared directly in front of me in a matter of seconds, the burnt skin of his nose scraping my smooth flesh, "Don't tempt me, princess."

I assumed that was going to be it: a hollow threat spawning from his uncertainty as he realized at least at present, that I was right. However, it wasn't all. Rapidly, he curled his blades around the back of my head and pricked the ends of them into my temple. Initially, it was startling and uncomfortable, but as the knives continued to dig into my skull, the pain became piercing.

Gradually, my groan turned into a yell which then grew to a shriek. I was well aware of what he was up to. He was coupling his telepathy with physical pain to distract me from fighting back. As much as I'd like to say it wouldn't work...I was afraid that it would. I could feel my mind drifting to thoughts of walking through the factory, sitting in the mustang out in front, the glove resting on my nightstand, and then my seemingly always absent mom...

I felt like he was getting in, could hear his raspy voice speaking occasionally and incoherently in the background. _What was he saying?_ I tried to shift my focus from the pain and my personal memories to his words...

"There...afraid..."  
"...worry...kitten."  
"Help...ok..."  
" _Freddy's got you."_

"NO!" I screamed suddenly, ejecting him from my brain and shoving my body away from his weapon at the same time.

Panting, I backed away, arms out defensively while my vision slowly cleared and I could see where I was again. Eyes on him, I hoped to be greeted with an angry expression, perhaps even a physical attack. Either of these would be enough response to tell me he'd been unsuccessful in pulling any knowledge out of my head. Instead, he was grinning deviously, clicking his blades, scraping their metal together. He stood exactly where he had been, content in his spot and whatever he had just gained from me.

"Now, that didn't hurt, did it?" he asked, throwing himself into maniacal laughter upon witnessing my horrified stance.

"You fucking asshole!" I growled furiously, only making him chortle louder. Not knowing what all he was able to read from my thoughts and unsure as to how easily he'd be able to travel to anyone new, I did the only thing I could think of at that moment...I reached out to his other side, "Fred! Fred! I know you're in there! I know you're stronger than him. I need your help! PLEASE!"

Like I had surmised, this only worked to upset the demon. Krueger instantly stomped forward, his smile fading as he barred his teeth and lifted his claw. I took paces backward as he did, and awkwardly attempted to summon some sort of gun or bat...anything to fight him with. Failing, I became pressed firm to the hot steel railing behind me, Freddy nearly atop me, letting his gloved hand fall gently onto my face.

"Scram, kitty," he purred.


	10. Chapter 10: Frustrating

"Shit fuck shit!" I cursed, jolting upward in my seat next to Dylan. We were still parked outside the abandoned power plant.

"Calm down, hun. Tell me what happened," he spoke softly, calmly, his eyes trailing from me down to my shoulder.

Looking to where his attention darted, I saw that the cut in my shirt and flesh that Freddy had made during the encounter showed prominently on my real body. There wasn't a lot of blood even though the wound was fairly deep. My friend was carefully dabbing the area with a paper towel. Seeing that the tissue was stained with red, I surmised that he had been tending to the injury and that was why it was so clean now.

"You saw him cut me?" I breathed, eyes lifting to the boy sitting next to me again, "Why didn't you wake me?"

Dylan gave a few more pats before removing his hand and looking back at me, his calm demeanor presenting instead as somber, "You know me well enough to know that I keep an open mind for all possibilities until one is definitively proven..." he paused, reading in my expression that I was fully aware of what he meant, "But this? This sealed the case for me. It's all real..." his tone dropped as did his eyes. He took a deep breath and then showed me a smile, "I didn't wake you because it wasn't life-threatening. I figured you'd kick my ass if I woke you up too soon and interrupted something important."

I grinned back, momentarily forgetting my distress upon witnessing my friend's precise observations regarding our relationship. I knew he wouldn't fully believe my Freddy stories until he had some sort of proof and just the same, he wouldn't discredit it until there was some sort of evidence that it was just a fantasy. Also, I _would_ have been upset if he had pulled me out before it was necessary. However...perhaps he should have woken me when he saw the injury, seeing how it had all ended up...

"I think Freddy may have gotten something from me," my tone grew grave, "I'm not sure, but the way he acted...it feels like he did."

"You mean information about another person?" Dylan clarified.

I nodded, "He was in my head. I tried to fight him, but I think I was too late."

"OK," he inhaled, switching to a studious voice, "While he was in your brain, what exactly did you think about?"

I shook my head, "Actively? Not much. I remember seeing your car. I thought about being in it with you, but didn't actually picture you. Then there was the glove. I saw it clearly- sitting on my nightstand at home... I thought about my mom, but..." I scrunched my face, remembering, "I may have vaguely pictured her, but...I just don't know..."

"It doesn't sound like you really gave anything up," Dylan hummed, "So what did he do to make you think otherwise?"

"He laughed," I shrugged, "He didn't seem upset when I pushed him away. Not until I tried to call Fred out."

"What?" my friend seemed mildly confused.

"I differentiate between his sides by calling the good one Fred," I quickly explained.

"Oh."

"Anyway, I tried to get him to take control and it wasn't until then that Freddy got angry. He was the one that threw me out of the dream; I didn't leave," I finished.

"Hm," Dylan lifted a hand and rubbed his chin, "I don't know. I wouldn't be so sure that he learned anything."

"Why not?" I wondered.

"Because it's too abrupt, first of all," he pointed, "Each time you've seen him, he's been the same- fighting himself and you, and obviously not making any progress. How come all of a sudden, he'd be able to nab something? Just like that?"

I stopped to consider what Dylan was saying, "It does seem a bit odd...but I figured it was because this time he was hurting me, digging into my skull with his claw. Maybe I came in at the wrong time when his alter was in control and it gave him an advantage."

"It's possible," the boy next to me sighed, "But I get the sense there is a trick here."

"It _would_ be in his nature to toy with me like that, but what could he be playing?" I asked, "If he's intentionally making me think that he found a way to someone else...if he pushed me out to make it seem that he was about to go after someone...why? What would that accomplish?"

The two of us sat there in silent contemplation. Dylan was a natural at problem solving, especially, due to his dad, when psychology was involved. My strength lied more in actually handling the problem, like facing danger rather than deciphering its reason. It didn't mean I was bad at it, but I did expect it likely for him to figure it out before me.

"If it's a bluff, then just waiting and seeing that nothing happens would call it," Dylan murmured.

"Yeah..." I agreed, not understanding why he felt the need to say that, "That was my point in asking what the hell he hoped to accomplish."

"I think he's betting on you not simply waiting around to find out what he got," the boy looked over at me, "I believe the trick might be to push you into acting."

Cocking my head to the side, I took a moment to contemplate this, "If I rush into trying to stop him, the greater the chance that'll I'll mess up."

"Exactly."

"Well, the downside to that is that if he isn't lying, then not trying to stop him will put another person at risk and potentially more if he gets to their mind," I sighed.

"That's true, but the good news is is if he has anyone to go after, we know the only two people it could be," the boy grinned deviously, "Because you only thought about your mom and me...and I have no problem staying awake until you've got a plan to squash the threat."

I chuckled, "Alright, but what about my mom? Her schedule is all over the place. When she's home, she's sleeping because if not, she's super cranky."

"What is she doing tonight?" Dylan wondered.

"Uh. Graveyard shift at work, I think. That or she has a date. Either way she's gone for the night," I shrugged.

"Then we need to come up with a plan by morning," my friend decided, placing his hand on the gear shift and switching the machine to reverse, "I'll see what I can dig up on treating people with split personality. Talk to my dad maybe."

"Would that be a casual conversation?" I asked, not wanting any attention drawn to us when the doctor had already checked up on me.

"Yeah, no worries," he laughed as he finished pulling out of the spot and changed gears to drive.

I didn't know if it was just the pressure behind not knowing what was going to happen or what, but I was building up some major anxiety leaving Springwood. The feeling of impending doom was unshakeable. At first, I thought surely something would go wrong before we made it out, like running into police or Lisa Zane. I anticipated that making it to the highway would lessen the feeling, yet my fear only shifted direction then, my being preparing itself to run into some sort of accident that would render us unconscious and in Freddy's world indefinitely and weakened. Once more, upon reaching home, my mind created scenarios of things that could go wrong- learning of a murder or other form of attack... All this tension didn't finally begin to settle until I was sitting on my bed, reading a text from Dylan telling me he had made it home safely.

Only then did I manage to focus on anything other than worry. Picking up my laptop, I looked once more at the information I had saved on spirit traps. If I could successfully make one that would capture Freddy, would I still be able to reach him? Or would he be locked away inside of it? And if I could connect with him, would that still allow him the chance to use me to get out and to others? These were not answers I could find anywhere. I'd have to contact an expert and the closest things I could find were demonologists, who didn't seem to use this technique, Native Americans, and pagans. I had no idea how to get in touch with a native other than to email or call one of the Nations and inquire, hoping I was taken seriously. Other than that, I could easily reach out to pagans. Online, there were groups everywhere to get in touch via internet or in person. It was likely I'd attract some nuts so I suppose I'd just have to pay attention and weed out the crazies myself.

Sighing, I clicked over to Facebook and sent requests to join the largest pagan groups I could find. Next, I found the sites for Cherokee and Chickasaw Nations, the only two tribe names I could remember were still around off the top of my head, and sent each a somewhat pleading, whilst trying to sound sane, email stating my wish to learn more about a particular spiritual practice. All that was left to do now, was wait. Just as I set the computer off to the side and rested my vision on the Soringwood Slasher's glove, I heard a small dinging sound: a Facebook notification.

"That was fast," I whispered aloud as my eyes fell to the small box informing me that I was now a member of _Pagans Worldwide Unite._

I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised. The group had over twenty admins so it'd be weird if at least one of them wasn't online. Quickly clicking over to make a new post, I summarized my inquiry in a way that my basic problem was alluded to without actually sharing what was going on: _I'm pretty new to witchcraft and was looking for some help regarding spirit traps. If I were to trap a spirit, would I be able to communicate with it without risking it getting free again? And are these permanent or can they be broken? Thanks._

After posting, I re-read it to conclude that it was decent. I hadn't had any more adds by that time, so I went back to looking at the glove. Just gazing at it seemed to relax me. Despite the trouble that had come of acquiring it, it was my most special possession. Besides, nothing bad had occurred and it had all made life much more interesting...though...my brow furrowed thinking back to the judgment its late owner had placed upon me... I didn't like that he thought so little of me. Childish? Hmph. Well, I had gotten the last say in that conversation, now hadn't I? I retorted triumphantly to myself, my smile almost instantly fading...maybe I could be a little childish at times...but my obsession with him was not. I hadn't hurt anybody and I was even trying to help him! Although with as true as that was, I'd be a liar to say I wasn't interested in this darkness as well, perhaps to a dangerous degree...dangerous more for others than myself and it didn't really bother me too much. My biggest concern was how it'd affect those I cared about. Ha! That was a short list of people. It wasn't that I wanted to harm people for no reason; it was just that if some people happened to die, it wasn't too big of a deal.

The sound of music playing broke the silence and caused me to jump. Reaching behind my laptop, I grabbed my phone and answered, "Mom?"

"Hey, sweetie," she spoke kindly with a tired voice, "I just wanted to let you know my plans for the night were cancelled so when I'm done at the store, I'll be home for the night."

"Shit."

"What was that?" her tone shifted immediately to stern.

"Sorry," I shook my head and cleared my throat, silently berating myself for letting my reaction slip out aloud. It was just so annoying that I'd have to watch out for her now too, "I just made a mistake on editing this video," I lied, "See you in a bit, I guess."

"Need anything from the store?" she asked politely.

A fifth of vodka and a stungun that works on demons.

"Snacks," I answered.

"Alright, text me a list," Mom agreed as she hung up.


	11. Chapter 11: Checkmate

"Psychotherapy? Somehow I think Freddy's condition is far past simply talking it out," I sighed, my breath no doubt crinkling the sound on Dylan's end of the line.

"Well, according to what I could find on my own, long-term therapy is really the only known way of dealing with Disassociative Identity Disorder," he repeated, "It's a really rare condition as is. Sometimes antipsychotics or mood stabilizers are used to help the symptoms, but they don't cure the actual problem because the cause of the disorder is typically some sort of trauma. Medicine can't rewrite events."

"It sounds to me that we'll likely be trying a different method. Something a little less scientific," I hummed.

"You have an idea then?" Dylan's interest seemed to peek.

"I think-" I was interrupted by my bedroom door suddenly swinging open.

"Honey, I got your-"

"JESUS CHRIST, MOM!" I yelled at the woman who appeared in the doorway holding a grocery bag.

"Sorry..." her tone was only half-sincere as she watched me retrieve the phone I had dropped in my startle.

While lifting the device back to my ear, I could hear Dylan worriedly asking if I was alright, "Sorry, Mom just popped in and scared me."

"How did you not hear me come in the house?" she crossed her arms.

"Hang on a second, Dylan," I carefully set the phone down and turned to my visitor, "Because I was on the phone," I answered with a hint of attitude.

"Well, here," Mom let her arms down and walked toward me, "I picked up those snacks you wanted."

I took the bag from her, glancing at it only momentarily before I realized she had started to leave again, "Hey, what are you up to?"

"Probably going to watch a movie and head to bed early, why?" she was turned to see me again.

"Just...just wondering," I lied, "Thanks for the snacks."

"You're welcome, dear," she smiled, then continued on her way, "Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," I offered a weak grin, "Thanks." I lifted my phone again as I watched her depart, "Yeah, I might have found a way. I'm talking to someone online about it."

"Cool. My dad just finished up with some paperwork and is down in the kitchen. I'm going to go catch him before he goes to sleep or gets busy with something else and ask him about this," my friend informed, "Working at Westin Hills for so long, I bet he has some firsthand experience that might help."

"Okay, keep me updated. I gotta keep an eye on Mom," was the last thing said before I put the phone down and read the latest reply in a conversation I'd been having with one of the Pagans from the Facebook group I joined.

 _ **ISIS**_ : "No problem. I've practiced witchcraft most of my life. My whole family is Pagan. Mostly Wiccan.

"Like I said on your post, it's all based on your particular situation, how you go about it, and of course the strength of your energy. What exactly are you trying to do? Not meaning to be nosey, but if I had more details, I could be of more use."

 _ **ME**_ : "Well, it's kind of complicated...and you'll think I'm crazy..."

 _ **ISIS**_ : "lol I doubt I will"

 _ **ME**_ : "well...I've been in contact with this spirit and I've found out that part of him is evil, but not all of him is.

"Ideally, I'm looking for a way to just lock his evil side away but since they're the same person I figure it wouldn't work that way and I'd just be trapping all of him.

"But I don't want the good side of him suffering. I just want to keep everyone safe and I don't really know what else can be done..."

 _ **ISIS**_ : "wow yeah, that is complicated lol but not crazy. Hm. Wanting to split someone's soul is very much out of our realm of things. If there is somebody who can do it, like a human I mean, I wouldn't trust it. It'd be a very dark use of magick and that sort of thing is very precarious to handle...especially for someone new to witchcraft.

"But on the bright side, you should be able to trap the spirit and still be able to safely communicate with it without fear of it getting loose again. It would require a lot of work to keep it up of course and I can't guarantee your success"

 _ **ME:**_ "I don't really have any other options so successful or not, if it's possible, I need to try."

 _ **ISIS:**_ "Alright, the first thing you need is the supplies to make the physical part of the trap."

 _ **ME:**_ "I have yarn? The ones I saw online were mostly made of types of string so..."

 _ **ISIS:**_ "That's good. The physical part is less important than the energy work. Were you planning on weaving it or?"

 _ **ME:**_ "um..."

 _ **ISIS:**_ "alternatively, you can just wrap the string around a frame. Anything really- a can, a piece of wood... Hell, even fold some paper together."

I got up from the bed and walked over to where I'd set my backpack down. Quickly unzipping it and pulling out the folder I used to store blank paper, I took out a handful of pages and returned to where my computer and the bundle of yarn I'd found was. I shot Isis a message saying I got the paper before folding several of the sheets in half over each other.

 _ **ISIS:**_ "Okay, so when you wrap the yarn around it, you need to occasionally tie little knots in it. That's to help entangle the spirit."

 _ **ME:**_ "So where does the spellwork come in?"

 _ **ISIS:**_ "Do you know how to channel energy at all?"

 _ **ME:**_ "I've watched documentaries and movies where people channel ghosts but that's about it."

 _ **ISIS:**_ "lol channeling energy is a bit different than channeling a ghost. No worries, it's simpler. Most people can teach themselves to do it to some degree. I'd recommend practicing a while before actually working on your trap though."

 _ **ME:**_ "How long is a while? I don't have much time."

 _ **ISIS:**_ "How much time do you have?"

 _ **ME:**_ "A couple days?"

 _ **ISIS:**_ "then take tonight for practice. I can send energy to you to help when you sit down to make the trap."

 _ **ME:**_ "You can send energy?"

 _ **ISIS:**_ "Think of it like a prayer. You've heard of people praying for someone to get over an illness right? That's all a prayer is is sending energy towards a cause."

 _ **ME:**_ "Oh I see. That makes sense. Thank you."

 _ **ISIS:**_ "no problem. Now, I want you to close your eyes and picture your body, then think about a color, whichever first comes to mind.

"This color is rushing up and down your arms, legs, chest, head...everywhere inside you in circles. That is your energy, your soul, your inner strength, whatever you want to call it.

"Keep picturing it moving like that until you start to actually feel it in your body. It might feel like warmth or vibrations or even tingles or some other sensation.

"After you feel it, focus on trying to push all of that energy upward through you and into your chest, then into you shoulders, then one arm, and down to your hand. When you can feel it moving and getting stronger in your hand, imagine that feeling pooling like a fresh wound in the palm of your hand."

I took my time reading her messages as they popped up, hanging on to every instruction and memorizing them. After the last response, she stopped talking for a while which I took to mean she was waiting for me to say something.

 _ **ME:**_ "When I feel the energy like blood in my hand... What do I do then?"

 _ **ISIS:**_ "That's the end of your practice. Just keep doing that exercise over and over until you can do it easily and it starts feeling stronger. When you start on your trap, you'll be forcing that energy in your palm into the yarn with the intent of capturing the creature you're after behind it."

 _ **ME:**_ "The information I've read says you need some sort of bait for the spirit. Is that what my energy is supposed to be?"

 _ **ISIS:**_ "Yes. There is the option of working other things into it such as the essence of something important to your intended prey or even a physical item with a powerful energetic transcription such as blood to attract the type of spirit you're setting out for, but it's not common to."

 _ **ME:**_ "Okay thanks. I'm going to go try this now."

 _ **ISIS:**_ "TTYL"

I put my supplies and my laptop off to the side and made myself comfortable on the bed with my back against the wall as I reached for the sack of snacks Mom brought. Dipping inside the plastic, I scooped out a smaller bag of my favorite chips and dropped the rest of the food to the floor beside me. I absentmindedly opened the chips and began munching on them whilst staring at my free hand.

Curling and uncurling its fingers, I went over what Isis had said about my energy. My vision almost blurred as I went too long without blinking, the color of my inner power almost instantly appearing in my mind. I lost interest in my snack then and tossed the bag to the ground with the others. Closing my eyes to give them the rest they were longing for, I began envisioning my body, the color I'd seen circulating. Slowly, I followed each step that had been given me and found that this channeling stuff was much easier than anticipated.

 _Was I a natural at this too like with fighting Freddy in the dream world?_

I kept at my practice, determined to become as strong as I possibly could within the short time that I had to work with. I got so lost in training that I lost track of time as well. When this dawned on me, I threw myself out of thought so abruptly that it gave me a headache. A rapid glance at the phone on my nightstand told me that nearly three hours had passed since Mom had left my room.

"Shit!" I cursed aloud as I jumped from the bed and sprinted to the door and then down the hallway.

Mom's door was closed, but I could hear the television going. Good. She was probably still watching one of her stupid shows. Even so, I had to be sure. I knocked on the door to receive no answer other than a roar of laughter from the TV.

"Mom?" I called strongly with another rap on the wood. This time when I didn't hear her, I let my hand find the knob and twisted it open. Carefully pushing the door open, I laid sight on the dark room, illuminated only by the small projector that appeared to be set on a sitcom rerun. Creeping in with my eyes on the lump in the center of the bed, I called out once more.

Nothing.

My hand reached out, taking hold of the comforter and tugging it away from the barely decipherable outline of a human that it'd been concealing.

To my relief, my mother was laying there, dressed in a nightgown and sleeping. There were no injuries or damage done to her and I could see her chest moving upward and downward in a relaxed motion. She shifted in her slumber, making a short snorting sound that was almost humorous. I sat down at her feet and shook her.

"Mom! Mom! Wake up!"

The woman made the same noise as her head slowly rose a bit and her eyes fluttered to a barely open position that made her look like she was high. The smile that spread across her face didn't help that either. I grinned in return and opened my mouth to speak.

But I was interrupted again.

And this time, not by the pleasant or even partly annoyed voice of the woman laying next to me that I was expecting. Instead, her mkouth opened and Freddy's raspy voice came out of it.

"Checkmate, bitch."

I was on my feet the second the words sounded. I lunged at the woman, desperate to shake him away and wake her, but she only fell limp in my arms, completely asleep. Frantically, I began screaming at her, hitting her chest, and tugging at her clothes. In a last effort, I slapped her cheek so hard it turned red... Yet still, she remained unconscious. I heard a tearing sound then and looked at her gown where invisible knives were ripping through the fabric, cutting into her skin another message:

 _"Isn't this fun?"_

I _had_ to go after him. It seemed he wasn't bluffing after all. Mom was like me and didn't have a big social life. She certainly didn't know a lot of kids which was Freddy's main attraction, but she _did_ know other people. I had to stop him before he hurt her and before he spread.

Not planning anything but acting on instinct, I ran back to my room and retrieved the glove before rushing to Mom's side once more. I laid down in the bed beside her and closed my eyes, relaxing my body as if going to sleep, and focusing everything on Freddy.

 _You want to play games? Well, this queen doesn't pull her punches..._


	12. Chapter 12: Don't

Freddy was ready for me the moment I entered the dream world. He'd prepared for my arrival by making sure the scene I stepped into was macabre and of a sensitive nature. Fortunately for me, though, I had also prepared for this greeting by anticipating such a thing as his first move and bracing myself. The demon was adept at finding what hurt the most emotionally, especially things we had or had tried to forget. For me, what stood out to him was losing my dad when I was still pretty young.

Let me clarify, my dad is insane.

Not in the dangerous sense. It's just that he spends most of his time pretty removed from reality. It's gotten worse over the years and he's spent sufficient time living on the streets or in the hospital. However, it was a little while before the divorce when his mind started to go or at least enough that it caused problems. That is when we really lost him. When _I_ lost him. My mom gave up on him well prior to that. The worst part is nobody knows the reason for it. He'd always been a little ditzy and forgetful, but it was just like one day, his mind decided to just stop trying to remember anything at all and instead substitute strange fantasies.

That being said, the scene Freddy had created for me was that of my dad, how he was before his health deteriorated. I walked into the living room of my childhood home, spotting the head of a man over the back of the couch where he sat. Upon the first sounds of my steps, he turned, putting down the paper he'd been reading and getting up. With a big smile, he approached, greeting me with his old pet name for me.

Stifling the emotions inside that were trying to rise, I spoke plainly, "Freddy, I'm not wasting time with you. Where's my mom?"

"Bumblebee, what's wrong?" my father's lips fell into a worried frown, "Aren't you happy to see me? It's been so long since you came to visit, I thought I'd pop in and surprise you."

I swallowed, trying to push away the guilt of not having kept in better touch with the man. I knew he wasn't like this...not anymore. In reality, he probably didn't even realize who I was or how much time had passed since our we'd last seen each other. No, this was just a malicious demon's attempt at throwing me off. He was amplifying my insecurities to tear down my strength. I had to remind myself nothing he showed me was an accurate representation of actuality.

Ignoring the vision in front of me, I stepped to the side and began walking toward the door. I figured I'd be met with my 'dad' grabbing me as I went, but rather, when I laid my hand on the knob, heard a loud groan behind me. It sounded as if someone was trying to clench their teeth and endure some sort of intense pain. Spinning around, I saw Dad had fallen to the floor and was sitting on his knees with hands clutching desperately to his hair.

"NO!" he screamed, "NO! Yes...yes it's better like this," his voice dropped as eyes shifted rapidly from one side to the other, "You don't want me. You don't want me. But they want me. They care about me."

Even knowing that it was all a ruse to illicit a response from me, I buckled. I couldn't fight how seeing him like that made me feel. It hurt to think of how true what Freddy was showing me was. My dad was alone...completely isolated. He didn't feel like anyone wanted him or could do anything for him except the voices in his head. _Why didn't we do more? Why hadn't I done more for him?_ He didn't deserve to be alone. He hadn't...he hadn't done anything wrong. Forgetting to pick me up a few times...driving me away from home without letting Mom know because he thought someone was going to hurt me...he couldn't help those things. It wasn't his fault and nobody had gotten hurt.

"Dad..." I choked out in a whisper, trying to keep my voice strong, "That's not true. I love you. I want you."

"LIAR!" suddenly his crying became an angry shout and he was on his feet again, stomping towards me, "LIAR!"

I stepped back awkwardly as he got near, reaching out, twisting the door handle, and pushing the way open. However, in the moment it took for me to glance down at the entry I had just barely made, he was upon me. He threw a fist at the wall to the side of my head, the crashing of broken drywall causing me to jump. His other hand yanked mine off of the knob and pulled it up to feel his cheek which was soaked in tears.

"I'm not worth your time," his voice shook, though I couldn't tell if it was out of anger or sadness, "Not to you. I'm not worth it to you."

"Dad, I-" beads of moisture rolled out of my eyes as I blinked them, "I love-"

"LIAR!" he was screaming again with one forceful shove to my shoulders that sent my body falling through the door and down a drop of what had to be fifty feet.

After a grunt in response to finally hitting the ground, I picked myself up and studied my new surroundings. I was shocked to see myself in the same spot as before, only this time, there was nobody sitting on the couch. I was by myself. Turning around slowly as I calmed my breathing, I listened intently and peered as hard as I could to get the best sense of what was going on. I couldn't see anything, but after a moment, began to hear shuffling coming from the kitchen.

Before actually walking into the area, I looked down at my hand. Remembering the techniques I'd been learning, I decided to attempt to arm myself. Staring at the palm of my hand as I gathered my energy, I envisioned the machete that I'd been gifted by Henry from the museum. My thought was that since it was something tangible that I'd had in my possession then maybe it would be easier to summon. As well, I picked it over the glove thinking that perhaps since it wasn't attached to Freddy, he wouldn't be expecting it and I'd have the upper hand. I was thrilled to see the weapon start to embody and actually let a smile creep onto my face.

"ENOUGH!" the sound of my mother's yelling shook me from concentration.

My vision shot to the kitchen as the noise died down. I took one more glance to my hand to see my progress had been lost. _Damn it._ I crept closer to where I could still hear slight movement and carefully peeked inside. Both my parents stood there, mom with one arm raised straight in front of her, its hand pointing at her husband who seemed completely lost as to what was going on.

"What's the matter? What's wrong?" he asked softly, setting one foot forward.

"Stay back!" the woman ordered.

He halted, his confused expression changing to terrified and protective, "What...what did you do to her?" his voice was soft yet direct. His neck began turning from side to side, his eyes darting about in a fit of paranoia, "Where's my daughter?!"

The man didn't wait for any sort of answer. Instead, he immediately started calling my name and stomping near my mom, trying to force his way around her. His wife, equally baffled, let out a small sound of terror as she threw her hands on his chest and pushed against him.

"Stop! STOP!" she cried, "Leave her alone! You're not right in the head; you'll hurt her!"

Seeing both my parents so distressed was too much. I hurt, yes, but moreover, it pissed me off. How _dare_ Freddy try to fuck with me like that? It was an event I'd seen years ago when Dad first unraveled. My mom had picked up on the signs, could see that he was losing it. Like I said, he wasn't dangerous, but she didn't know that then, and she was afraid for me...probably for herself too. I hopped into the kitchen fully and drew their attention.

"Both of you stop!" I yelled.

The pair relented in their struggle and stared at me.

"Nobody's hurt. Nobody's getting hurt," I continued, "And nobody's going to hurt us. It's ok..."

It seemed to relax the ghosts of my past, but only for a brief moment. Seconds later, my dad made it past my Mom and ran to me, throwing his arms on my in a tight embrace. I could see Mom, still uncertain, standing in the same spot. I reached my hand out to the side and gestured for her to come close...and eventually, she did. Lost in the fantasy for too long, the sound of chuckling echoing in my ear alerted me that I was still in danger.

Abruptly, I pushed myself back and out of the hug. Looking up at the two adults, I expected one of them to be phasing into Freddy or showing some small sign of him through their disguise. However, they simply stood there, observing me with looks of wonder as they wanted an explanation to my behavior. No, I couldn't fall for this. It was all a trick. He was toying with me.

"Bumblebee? What's wrong?" my father asked again. Mom opened her mouth to say something as well, but I cut her off...literally.

On my hand, was the glove of the Springwood Slasher. It took almost no effort to bring the weapon in again. I hadn't even consciously thought about it either. In the second of realization that this was still a fight, it had just come to me. I really did like this thing... I slashed at the representation of my mother instantly so as to not give the demon much time to defend. The strike nearly landed, falling short to only cut into the shirt that she wore.

"What are you doing?" the woman squealed in a panic, taking a pace back yet not fleeing from me.

"Bumblebee, what did they do to you?" my dad's voice showed hurt.

"Nobody did anything to me!" I growled, "But I'm about to fuck you up, Krueger!"

I leapt forward almost simultaneously with my supposed dad whose face took on the likeness of Freddy without actually changing to it. Even so, he lunged with arms out and fingers curled, making it easy for me to twist my position at the last moment and swipe down with the knives to cut deeply into his flesh. He howled in pain, demeanor resembling my father's once more in an attempt to play the victim. My mind was made up at that point, though, and I didn't let it affect me. I gave another fierce strike, slicing off three of his fingers, rotating to dodge a blow, and then plunging the blades into his chest.

As the man fell away from me and I readied for a final blow, 'Mom' interjected herself into the battle, "What are you doing? Stop!" she spoke frantically whilst holding my wrists.

Ignoring the command, I pushed against her grip and tore my armed hand free, quickly dropping it low enough to send the claw at her abdomen. I anticipated the attack to be shallow, so was thoroughly surprised when I was met with blood gushing from her stomach, my hand sinking into her guts. My sights lifted with the sound of the excruciating scream in my ear, to see that my 'dad' was standing on the other side of the woman and forcing her deeper into my blades.

The man morphed from my parent and into Freddy, who was grinning like a maniac, "Aw it looks like somebody has _mommy issues_."

Jumping backward so that the woman was free to fall out of our grips, my heart sank and my blood ran cold. He _had_ been tricking me...but I hadn't been paying attention to the right trick.

"Mom?" I breathed, watching as her body fell to the floor, her eyes on me the whole time. She was trying to speak yet only garbled sounds left her lips as she spat up blood instead of words. No. No no no no... This...it was still him, right? He was still messing with me... I didn't...

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" the demon belted into laughter.

I ran to my mother while she rapidly become weaker and weaker. Kneeling beside her, I looked desperately from her face to her wound and up again, "Mom, I..." I shook my head side to side over and over, not understanding...not knowing if what I was seeing now was real...or maybe I just didn't want it to be. The last motion the woman made was to lift a hand to my cheek, barely touching it before falling back to her side. When she was finally still, I could once more hear something else...the sound of Freddy's breathing.

"YOU FUCKING PRICK!" I screamed at him, dropping my mother and lunging at him.

The demon, while clearly anticipating the move, seemed taken by the sudden ferocity of the attack. I struck and dove and struck at him frantically, hardly giving him time to recover in between blows and yet still never hitting him...not until I saw his eyes change colors. Only then did I manage to land a strike, cutting into the side of his neck just enough to draw blood. I didn't want to stop and I shouldn't have...but I did, though not before tearing into his filthy sweater and ripping the flesh beneath.

"Fred?" my breath quickly turned into a cry, "Fred? Please tell me she's not..."

"I'm...I'm so sorry," he spoke plainly, obviously removing his emotion from the situation in order to control himself, "I tried...I tried to..."

I staggered away, not knowing what my next move was, "What...what do I do now?" my voice was almost a beg.

"You _need_ to destroy that glove...destroy me," Fred answered, "And quickly, before anyone shows up to..." his eyes drifted from me to the woman's body laying between our feet.

"But...no, but wait," I stammered, "I didn't...I mean...they'll put me in prison! This isn't my fault! I-" the string of choked out worries was cut off by sudden, strong arms around me. Fred had pulled me into him, keeping me tight in his embrace as my head rested against his chest.

"They won't put you in prison. Somewhere...but not prison," he spoke softly.

"A mental ward?" I asked, frightened.

A short silence passed before he confirmed, "I've been in and out of this area...these ordeals for too long...they'll think you did it. They'll think you're crazy. What you have to do is just let them. Do what they tell you. Take their medicines. They'll release you again."

It was terrible timing, but his words...his touch...they were so comforting. It was a warmth I hadn't known for quite some time. Something I could only remember from the time I had a father...and yet this was also more than that.

"Fred?" I sniffed, tilting my head back to look at him, "I'm sorry."

The man peered down at me, his eyes full of genuine regret and compassion, "None of this is your fault. I'm the one who's sorry. Please...please do me a favor. Get out of here and destroy that glove before anything else happens."

He carefully loosened his hold on me, but I wasn't ready to go, "Fred," I clasped onto his hands just before they could completely fall away, "But will...will destroying the glove get rid of you?"

The man took a deep breath, "Don't do this. Don't try to save me... Just get the fuck out of here and destroy it!" even though his tone changed to its evil side at the last of his orders, it felt that Fred was the one speaking to me the entire time, which made it hurt even more when he was the one to push me out of his world this time.


	13. Chapter 13: Cover-Up

Even fully aware of what I was waking up to, I still immediately rolled over in the bed and checked my mom. Part of me was hopeful of it being all in my head...a dream, a hallucination...anything as long as it wasn't real. We weren't the closest pair, but that didn't mean I wanted her to die! I didn't want to lose her. I certainly couldn't bear the thought of being to blame for her murder. And yeah, I knew that it was at least partially my fault.

Unintentionally reaching over and resting my hand in a puddle of blood that gave way to let me feel her entrails, I instantly jerked back, my now crimson palm raising to my face to hold it as if it would help keep me from crying. The bedroom was still barely lit so I hardly saw any details, but it didn't matter. I had already witnessed them all during the nightmare.

Choking on a sob, I threw myself off of the mattress and rushed out the door, down the hall, and into my room where I halted, almost gasping at what I saw. Where I had kept my prized possession displayed on my nightstand, it still lay...but stained red. The crimson of my mother's blood glinted off the steel blades of the glove which laid in a pool so thick that it took on a darker hue. The wood of the table was now decorated in beads of the plasma, running down its length and slowly dripping onto the floor.

In that moment, everything around me fell away. I saw nothing but the gruesome art in front of me...heard nothing except the drip drip drip of the droplets hitting the ground. I wasn't sure how long I had been staring, glued to my spot before I shook myself back to the present and strutted forward to retrieve the weapon.

"If anyone saw this, they'd definitely label me a psychopath," I murmured to myself as I grabbed an empty bag from my closet and shoved the glove down inside it.

I wasn't sure where I was heading to get rid of the thing, but I knew that even if I couldn't figure out how to destroy it in time, I had to hide it so I could get to it whenever I was released...or somehow get a message to Dylan as to where to find it. I was so focused on getting this done, that I completely forgot to grab anything else or even check my surroundings before flinging the front door open and setting into a sprint.

"DYLAN!" I squeaked upon seeing him walking up to the house, "What are you-"

"Dude, you've been ignoring me for six hours!" he complained, though worry was the only emotion he portrayed.

"I-"

"What the fuck..." the boy's gaze dropped to my clothes as he drew nearer, causing me to look at my attire for the first time since waking.

 _Shit._ I was drenched, one of my favorite shirts now dyed red.

"Are you OK?" my friend rushed forward, reaching his hands out to check me.

Before he could touch the fabric, however, I pulled away, not wanting any evidence to get on him. I was _not_ going to have him in trouble too. "Don't touch it!" I warned.

"Wh-what happened?" his voice dropped.

"I... Mom... He killed her," I barely mustered the response.

"Shit," Dylan immediately looked down at his jeans and began retrieving his phone from one of the pockets.

"What are you doing?!" I tried to grab the phone from him, but he jerked away.

"Calling the cops; what do you think?" he retorted, pausing momentarily as if to see if I had good reason to stop him.

"You can't!" I ordered, "Not yet."

"What do you mean?" his brow furrowed.

"They're going to think I did it!" I explained, "I have to destroy this glove or at least hide it until I can."

My friend stared at me for several moments, utterly confused as to what to do, as silence settled upon us. Suddenly, he started taking steps backward and then jogged toward his car. My heart sank. _Please don't abandon me,_ I pleaded in my head, _I need you._

But instead of getting in and driving off, he popped the rear door open and leaned inside, shuffling about for a few seconds before lifting and running back to me. In his hand, he held the hammer we had used at the power plant.

"Which window is where your mom is?" he inquired.

"Um...over there," I gestured, "What are you-"

"Your best chance at getting out of this is to claim there was a break-in and-" he rushed to clarify his plan, but I stopped him midway.

"That's not going to work," I mumbled.

"Why not?" he wondered.

I sighed.

"Here, follow me, but don't touch anything," I commanded.

He obeyed, carefully stepping over the threshold and following me to my room where I showed him the gory display where I'd taken the glove from.

"I already thought of trying to pin the blame on a burglar or something," I shared, "But this isn't explainable in any scenario like that. And if I cleaned it-"

"The crime scene investigators would pick up on any trace amounts of blood or wonder why it was recently bleached," Dylan finished.

I nodded.

"Well, fuck," his hands raised to nervously slick his hair back, "This means you can't hide the glove either."

"No?" I panicked.

He shook his head, "First, the space where you removed it? They'll question that too. AND they're going to need to find a murder weapon because if they don't, they'll think you were of enough mind to hide it."

"Crap. I didn't consider that," I admitted, "If they think that, it's more likely I'd be charged with murder, maybe even premeditated, meaning that my chances of a psych defense become very slim. Because if I planned these things or could instantly be aware of negative repercussions, then I'm mentally stable enough to know what I did and know it was wrong."

"Exactly," the boy agreed.

"What am I supposed to do then?" I asked, "If the police get the glove, then I'll never be able to destroy it. Not without breaking into a fucking police station, which I doubt is that easy."

"It's not," Dylan hummed, his brain contemplating alternate options, "Wait! What about your knife?"

"You mean my stilleto?" I wondered.

"I thought it was a switchblade," he observed curiously.

"I mean technically it's a type of switchblade?" I answered, "But it's specifically called a stilleto knife."

"Ok whatever, I don't know about that stuff," he shrugged, "Do you have it here?"

"Yeah..." I stepped to the side and began digging through my backpack to find the blade.

"You could get in a lot of trouble for taking that to school, you know?" my friend stated oddly.

I slowly turned and shot him an incredulous look, "Not what I'm worried about right now, Dyl."

"Sorry..."

I pulled out the knife and sprang to my feet, "So you're thinking to plant this in place of the glove? Make it look like this is the murder weapon?" I surmised.

"Stop reading my mind," he half-joked, "And yes."

"Brilliant," I nodded, "Now what about this?" I slung the handbag concealing the claw off my shoulder.

"Give it to me," he offered his hand, "I can go stash it somewhere real quick while you...stir up that blood on your nightstand and dirty the other knife."

I took a deep breath in and exhaled as I decided letting him do this was our best option. However, as I stepped forward with the bag, he retreated his hand and started to curse.

"Shit fucking dammit!" he stomped around in a small circle.

"What? What is it?" I asked, my heart pounding again.

"My dad..." he complained, rubbing his forehead and sighing.

"What about him?"

"He knows about the glove...about your whole thing with the Springwood Slasher..." Dylan exhaled loudly, "He'll be the one they talk to and I know him well enough to know he'll mention everything and if the glove turns up missing..."

"He'll immediately know something is up," I whispered.

In that moment, I felt so defeated, so helpless that it was ridiculous. I leaned against the side of my bed and slid down onto the floor, dropping my bag in front of me and fiddling idly with the blade.

"Are you sure she's dead?" Dylan's voice and the question itself both seemed out of place, making the situation feel that much more surreal. I turned a glare on him that was my answer. It was also apparently frightening enough to make his features quiver as he lifted his palms to face me in a silent apology.

"On the plus side," he tried again after several quiet minutes passed, "My dad knows you...and your family. I know he'd take your case on personally and he'd be the best defense you have."

"But he already thinks I'm crazy," I scoffed.

"Maybe...but he also knows you're not dangerous," he informed, "And he knows the kind of stress you've been under and your-" his eyes fluttered away from me awkwardly as if he really didn't want to bring up what I knew he was about to, "Genetics... Anyway," he cleared his throat, "My point is that from his view, you've only been a victim of disassociation brought on by acute stress, genetic predisposition, and adolescent hormonal fluctuation."

"Ok, but what does that mean exactly?" my tone grew a little bitchy, "What's the outcome?"

"You're still underage," my friend continued, "So if he can have you determined as not responsible for your actions due to psychological factors, then you're looking at being committed until you're eighteen when you'll be reevaluated to see if you pose a danger to yourself or others, which we know that you don't."

"You really think they'll let me out?" I wondered.

"Yeah, I do," he offered a weak smile.

"Huh. That's what Fred told me too," I recalled.

The boy hesitated, "You're going to have to play into the role though."

"Do what they tell me, you mean?"

"That and...your story is you blacked out. You don't know what happened tonight," he cast a finger at me, "If you need someone to model your actions and responses after...just think about your dad."

"For how long? At what point do I start acting normal again?" I inquired.

"Gradually...you'll talk to a psychiatrist within a day of now. Act entirely removed then, as emotionless as possible. If you start feeling like you can't keep yourself from getting upset, then make it over the top, really fucking dramatic and incoherent," Dylan instructed, "The next time you see one, be in and out like you're getting about half of what's going on. After they put you on medicine, start becoming more aware. Full effect of medication will be in place anywhere between one and three months and typically it takes a few adjustments here and there to get the dosage that works the best so..."

"Got it...but...what if they trick me? Give me fake pills to see if I'm lying?" I wondered, feeling a little paranoid.

"You watch too many movies," the boy let out a short laugh, "That's not going to happen. Besides, you'll know. Antipsychotics, antidepressants...all these medicines are going to make you feel drowsy, especially at first. Maybe even light headed or sluggish. You'll be able to tell."

"Ok..." I took a deep breath and tried to give him a smile, "Thanks, Dyl... I love you, bro."

"I love you too, buddy," he grinned, "I...I have to call someone now."

"I know..." I sighed.

"Put the glove back where you found it," he reminded, "And hand me the bag. I'll get rid of it. Don't want anyone having the slightest clue about us trying to cover up."

"Right," I got up and did exactly what he said, nervously waiting as he darted out to his car to hide my purse before coming back inside and dialing his dad's number.

This was going to be one hell of a ride.


	14. Chapter 14: Here or There

Being arrested was different than I'd imagined... Dylan's dad had made him stay on the phone until he arrived on scene, instantly followed by police, who he had called while on his way, keeping the line with his son open. I had pictured Dr. Alderman coming inside to where Dylan and I sat on the couch, almost losing his normal cool, knowing what I had dragged his son into. I even thought perhaps the cops, directly on his tail, would pull him back from us as they raised their guns in my direction before ordering me to move away from the boy and get on the ground. I'd even considering actually getting shot or Dylan refusing to leave me. However, none of that happened.

Dr. Alderman informed Dylan the moment his hand was on the door handle, and told him to tell me, which he did. My friend had already let the man know that I was calm and unarmed. As he stepped through the door and hung up the phone, I heard sirens approaching. My heart skipped a beat before beginning to race. I had to keep reminding myself to stay calm and not to act like I was really aware of what was going on, which was harder to do than I initially thought.

The doctor neared the two of us slowly, hands in sight, but not in an obvious fashion. I got the sense he was being cautious while maintaining the way he'd usually deal with a person and not making it seem that he was frightened or wary. He did a good job of it too; I honestly couldn't tell if he was nervous at all.

He only had the time to speak my name, asking plainly as to how I was doing before two cops stepped inside the still open entry behind him. They, too, walked toward us with hands on their holstered weapons, but nobody ever instructed Dylan or his father to move away from me...and nobody shouted or yelled or stuck a gun in my face. It was all so...quiet. it wasn't anything like the movies...

Two more officers came in in the same manner, glancing at our group gathered in the living room before actually lifting their pistols as they journeyed down the hall to where my room and my mother were. While they did this, the officers they had left with us moved even closer to me, the woman kneeling about a foot away, her male counterpart standing beside Dylan and facing me. The man lowered his gaze to watch his partner when she started to speak.

"Hey, what's your name?" she asked in a friendly voice.

I didn't answer and tried not to look at her either. Besides, I was sure Charlie had already informed them of who I was and all.

"Sweetheart, can you show me your hands?" she continued.

I fought the urge to cringe my brow. _My hands? Why?_ Before I could wonder more on it, I felt Dylan touch my arms that I had crossed over my chest, and unfold them, giving the officer what she had asked for.

"See?" I heard him say, "I told you she didn't have anything on her."

 _Oh, they wanted to make sure I wasn't hiding a weapon or anything..._ Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the policemen who had searched the rest of the house had returned. One of them was switching the radio on his shoulder as he went out of the door while the other one approached the officer that had been standing in front of Dylan. He whispered something in the man's ear before the both of the set grave eyes upon me.

They had found the glove then...and...and Mom...

For the next fifteen minutes or so, they continued to try and talk to me, using reserved voices that they never raised although I was certain they weren't feeling sorry for me... Their expressions remained stern the entire time and their movements cautious. Dr. Alderman even attempted to speak with me, but I refused him also, heeding what Dylan had told me and refrained from reaction.

At about twenty minutes, they had given up, Charlie taking his son by the arm and gently pulling him away. It was clear that my friend didn't wish to leave me and of course, I didn't want him to either. However, he didn't fight it and simply did as his father wanted. It was difficult for me not to turn his way or cry after him as the two strolled out of the house.

When half an hour had passed, more people had arrived who I assumed were the crime scene investigators. As they began to pile in, making a bee-line for the bedrooms, the female cop who had been kneeling or sitting nearby for the duration, rose and commanded me to turn around, her tone was low though not rude. At first, I started to obey, barely catching myself before I actually moved.

The woman repeated herself, finally giving up and stepping forward, grabbing onto my wrist and tugging me to stand. The minute she touched me...I cried. For a moment, I thought I had ruined the plan, but upon remembering what Dylan had said, only let the sobs turn into screams as I pulled away from the woman as violently as I could. Her partner rushed toward me at that point and I curled my free hand into a fist and beat it into his chest. Both adults were easily stronger than me, however, and soon had me turned around and handcuffed.

Yet I didn't stop screaming...I couldn't...by then, I was too overwhelmed and any attempt to relax myself would only show that I was aware of the situation and not so utterly distraught to be considered mentally unstable. Outside, I saw that several of my neighbors had gathered on their doorsteps or near the edge of their yards. All of them were watching the scene, intensely interested even prior to the police presenting my out of control self yelling incoherently as my face drenched itself in tears.

They moved me quickly into the backseat of one of the cruisers and slammed the door shut, keeping me restrained in the small cage. Then, the two officers who had escorted me loaded into the front seat, the woman turning to face me through the grate between us. She was urging me to calm down, to relax, but I couldn't. I began banging my shoulder against the barrier and crying, shouting, pleading for them to let me go, to leave me alone, even though I knew it wasn't going to happen...it was just all I could say...

The woman turned to her partner and sighed. The man clicked the car's radio on and spoke to someone on the other side, asking for an EMT to be sent to the scene on account of 'psychiatric distress.' I didn't have to have any experience in these matters to know what that meant. They were going to drug me since I would not stop acting irrationally and therefore posing a direct harm...if only to myself.

It was hard for me to keep the act up for the next fifteen minutes it took for their support to arrive. My throat was getting hoarse and my entire body ached from fighting so hard. Finally, both officers removed themselves from the vehicle again and not but a few moments after, my cage was opened once more. I barely had the strength to try and lunge toward the man in medical uniform who appeared there under the close eye of the police, who bolted forward to hold me in place as the nurse...doctor...whatever the fuck he was, jabbed a needle into my arm.

I didn't know what the medication was; neither did I anticipate it to work so quickly. Nearly instantaneously, I felt a cold sensation in my veins that was followed by my head getting heavy... My vision started to blur and I could hardly move...my body swaying strangely back and forth while the three of them helped put me into a laying position in the back seat. The last things I remembered before completely blacking out was the sight of the three standing there just outside the car...and the discomfort of the cuffs pressing against my back and pinching my wrists under the weight of my slumbering body/

When I awoke, I was in a clinical room which was entirely white. It was like a normal hospital except there was basically nothing in the room except me and the bed I was strapped to. My eyes slowly focused and then fluttered about to take in every detail I could. I spotted, above the closed wooden door, what looked to be a peephole or a...camera. Someone was watching me. I was in an observation room.

Gradually, noises sounded beyond those four walls, leading me to the conclusion that I was, in fact, in a regular hospital. There were steps up and down the hall, over the intercom were messages for different staff members to report here or there, and even in the distance, I heard someone demanding pain medication at the top of their lungs.

I stayed laid on my back, not by choice, but due to the oddly strong laces across my chest, stomach, and legs. As I began to wriggle about underneath them, I heard a clicking sound and the door to my room swung open. I expected Dr. Alderman to be there, but instead it was a different man, who I eventually recognized as the one who had administered the medication to me in the police cruiser. He walked in with a smile.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked.

Though I was staring at him, I didn't speak. It still threw me off guard how polite everyone had been to me during all of this... As far as they knew, I was a crazy teen who had just murdered their mother with the claw of a famed serial killer who I'd been obsessing over. Did they think I was so far removed that I didn't deserve their anger?

"Do you know where you are?" he continued.

I blinked a few times, never taking my sight off of him. I felt like an asshole not saying anything, but I knew it was for the best. I had to get through this so I could make sure nobody else got hurt. I only hoped that Freddy had no way of getting to others while I was committed.

The man took another pace forward, reaching his hand out to my face. I flinched, jerking away without a thought, my eyes momentarily darting to the hand that tried to touch me. He paused where he was and carefully retreated. It wasn't until he strolled around the bed and took my chart off the end of it that I realized he had been looking for a reaction with that gesture. _Shit. I hoped I gave the right one..._ He had surprised me so I hadn't had the time to prepare myself to act according to my story.

He wrote something down on the paper before hanging it back up, looking at me with a quizzical expression, and then left again. Fortunately, there was a clock hanging high on the wall directly in front of me so that I didn't wonder how long I'd been in there. I hated analog so it took me a few seconds longer to read. Ten twenty-seven...at night? No, it had to be morning. _Crap, it had been longer than I thought..._

Every time the hand struck another half-hour, I told myself someone would be in...any minute now. Well, four hours of 'any minutes' passed before someone did show and it was the same man as before. He softly tried to get me to speak again and when he failed this time as well, softly informed me that they were transferring me to Westin Hills for a psychiatric evaluation which would determine if I stayed there or in jail while I awaited my trial.


	15. Chapter 15: First Night

So apparently when he said I'd be transferred to receive my psych evaluation, he didn't mean immediately. I was in the ER for another few hours while they did who the hell knows what. Paper work? or maybe just watching me for a while longer. When EMTs finally did show to transport me, they started by carefully unstrapping me from the bed, informing me in gentle voices of literally every move they made directly before making it.

At first, I didn't do anything, only stared at them while they stared at me. When I concluded that they were testing the waters to see what I would do, I slowly rose and threw my legs off the side of the bed and sat there, as silent as I had always been. One of the men stepped forward, offering his hand and asking me to walk with him and the other stood nearby. I didn't take hold of him, but I did slip off the cot and slowly began walking toward the door. I was the calmest I had been all night and day, but still sore from the whole ordeal, so I was glad when nobody actually touched me, opting to simply let me get into the hall under their watchful eye.

Outside, there was a gurney with the same straps as the bed I'd been in. One of the men strolled in a circle around me and placed a hand on the tiny mattress before looking at me and asking me to hop on. I glanced over his shoulder to get a better look at my surroundings, and then around to the other guy, and finally behind me. The place seemed pretty empty at present, though I could hear a bustle at either end of the corridor and in the rooms between. My movements apparently registered in their minds as a possible flight risk because they inched toward me then. To keep them from worrying or from pushing me around, I sat my ass where they wanted and lifted my feet onto the gurney.

I didn't lay down, hoping they wouldn't strap me down again, and I had been partially correct. Instead of restraining me, they only wrapped one of the velcro laces over my feet after first layering a blanket on my lap. I figured it was more of a safety thing for the transport rather than their feeling I posed a danger to them. I had thought too soon, however, as a cop suddenly appeared from the other side of the man who had let me out of the room and without a word, threw a cuff onto one of my wrists and clicked the other shut to the side railing of the bed, still folded beneath the mattress.

After that, they had silently rolled me down two halls and out into a covered area where ambulances were parked. The trio then loaded me into the back of the vehicle, one leaving to drive while the police woman and the other EMT sat in the back with me. The ride was entirely quiet except for the occasional chatter from the driver's radio. It was interesting to hear that medical transports had a walkie talkie system similar to police where whoever on the other line would request a 'bus' and then would be answered by whatever ambulance was on duty and free.

Fortunately, Westin Hills wasn't too far out of town so I hadn't suffered the ride, which was both uncomfortable physically and emotionally, for long. I didn't really get a good look at the place due to my being locked in the back of the van, but the load out was much like the load in had been. The three of them rolled me out of the vehicle and checked in at with what I guessed was a receptionist. That was were the cop signed some paper and left me with the two other guys who also signed a paper that the lady at the desk handed them. They once more unstrapped me, helped me off the bed, and showed me to an office before they left as well, shutting the door behind me.

For the brief moments I was in that room alone, which was the same as the observation room except with a table and two chairs instead of a bed, I anticipated how I'd act and what I'd say or wouldn't say when Dr. Alderman came in for my evaluation. However, he wasn't the person that showed. Instead, a woman, dressed in flowery scrubs strolled in with a smile and set a tablet and a bag on the table. She said something about what I could expect for the next few days including patient rules and asking if I was currently taking any medications or had a restricted diet. I accidentally let myself shake my head no and she quickly jotted a note into the tablet.

The next several minutes, she tried to get me to tell her my information- name, age, weight, medical history...shit like that, but of course I didn't answer. I found it somewhat annoying that they'd kept asking. By now, they would have had all these details considering Charlie was around and could give them for me. The nurse didn't press the matter for too long and finally ended by instructing me to take off my clothes and any jewelry I wore and put them into the bag she had brought.

In my head, I was complaining that I didn't have anything else to wear, but she interrupted my private thoughts by saying she was going to leave and bring something back for me. When she left and the door was shut once more, I considered _not_ doing what she said. The jewelry and stuff? Yeah, fine, but I wasn't just going to stand there naked and wait for her to come in and see me like that. Couldn't she have given me clothes _before_ I stripped?

"They do that so they can make sure you're not hiding anything," the girl sitting on the couch next to me informed, "Just be glad they didn't do a cavity search."

"A what?" I whispered.

"It's when the stick their fingers in every hole and-"

"OKAY!" I practically shouted, lowering my voice instantly in fear that one of the staff had heard me talk, "Jesus, I get it.." I started to turn my head to see if I was in the clear, but instead, asked the other girl, "Hey, did anyone hear me?"

She made no effort to hide that she was looking around, the extent to which she twisted her head every which way making her look very paranoid, "Nah, nobody's in here right now."

My new _friend_ , I guess, was older than me and extremely thin with long black hair to elongate her appearance even further. She sat beside me on the faux leather couch, but almost a foot away as if to ensure the 'no touching' rule was kept. Instead of sitting butt down and feet on the floor in front of her as a person normally would, she had her feet in the chair with her butt just above the seat, her arms rotating between hugging her knees and flailing about awkwardly as if she'd lost control of them. I wasn't sure what exactly her problem was yet, only that she had been kicked out of her home on her eighteenth birthday. She said that her parents didn't want to take care of her anymore, but before then, had been legally obligated to.

"So what'd you do? Kill someone?" she inquired abruptly.

"I don't want to talk about this," I answered sternly under my breath.

"Okay," her bubbly response was accompanied by her bobbing her head back and forth as if to music that wasn't playing, "It's just you're the youngest person I've seen in here. What's wrong with you?"

I almost laughed at the idea that Miss Straight-Jacket Barbie here was asking what was wrong with _me,_ "Can you just let me know if anyone comes in or anything?"

"Yeah yeah, no problem, no problem," she repeated happily, waiting for a few seconds before wondering, "You'll tell me later though, right? When you feel better?"

I sighed, "Sure, whatever. Right now I just don't want to talk, alright?"

"Hm. Okay," her tone was as chipper as ever, but it was only then when I realized that despite the upbeat attitude, she was yet to smile...or frown...or really have any sort of expression at all. It was like her voice was the only part of her that portrayed emotion and it was stuck at the emotional level of a five-year old. I didn't get the sense she was dumb, though. Some of the things she had been chattering about required some degree of intelligence to know or understand.

"Naya? Come take your medicine," someone, presumably a nurse, called from behind me.

The girl's eyes darted over my head toward the door to the recreational room we were in. Rapidly, she set her palms down, one on the arm rest and the other on the back of the couch, and used them to hold her body up while she kicked her legs from beneath her and then jumped onto the floor, sliding against it to her destination with the over-sized socks on her feet. I was somewhat relieved she was gone, yet at the same time, had been glad for the company...and definitely the lookout. I hadn't been afraid that she'd share how I'd been speaking with her because even if she did, it would doubtfully be believed.

The only reason I was sitting out here in the first place was that I hadn't been allowed inside my bedroom yet. I wasn't the only one, either. Apparently one of the rules was that you had to spend the majority of your time outside around the other patients and staff. That was, unless you were in isolation which I was honestly surprised I wasn't. With some of the new people or those who didn't obey, I was told, they'd actually lock their bedroom so they had no choice but to be in the common areas as, surprise surprise! you weren't allowed in anyone's quarters except your own.

Naya had said that they weren't as strict on those who were there long-term. It was temporary patients they forced to be somewhat social, including attending group therapy. _Ugh._ I wasn't looking forward to any of this crap, but hey, at least it wasn't prison, right? So here I sat, watching the clock on the DVD player sitting protected behind a locked glass panel. There wasn't anything going on- no TV, no radio, no sort of ambience...

There were two men who had to be in their twenties or thirties playing checkers at a table a few feet away, a woman about the same age sitting in the corner nearby staring into space and mumbling to herself, and every so often I heard the couple of patients strolling back and forth in the hallway, laugh. Then, of course, the nurses would frequently poke their heads in and make sure nothing was going on. From what I noticed, though, there were no cameras around, which put me a little more at ease.

Finally, the clock struck eight pm, close enough to the nightly lock-down that they'd let me go lay down. As I got up and turned around, I noticed that Naya was traipsing lackadaisically back into the recreational area. When she spotted me moving, however, she skipped forward and began rambling again. Ignoring her to keep with my mission, I simply continued walking past, not looking at her or showing any inflection in my face or body. Nonetheless, she followed me all the way to my own room, thankfully now open.

"Okay! I'll see you tomorrow then!" was the last thing I picked up from her babbling as I walked inside and she fluttered away.

Absentmindedly, I went to close the door behind me, only to realize it was stuck in place. Sighing, I left it and went to bed. I guess I had to wait and let them lock it close when the time came. The room was actually about the size of my own back home, though almost half of it was taken up with a semi-private bathroom. A wall divided the toilet, sink, and shower head from where the bed was. There were no cabinets or even a shower curtain and no tub, but fortunately there was a mirror. I recalled what the woman who had given me the plain tshirt and scrub pants I now wore, had said about having to ask for our bathroom supplies each time we needed them and then give them back to be stored as soon as we were done. _How annoying._

Crawling under the few layers of blankets and resting my head on the pillow, I found that the bed was surprisingly comfortable. My mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and stressors; feeling pain, hate, fear, and sadness all at the same time while also feeling pretty numb to everything. I couldn't seem to focus on a single thing, no matter how hard I tried, and by the time I fell asleep, I had the hugest headache I'd ever had from trying to keep my head from feeling like a giant fog.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Woot! We just hit 1.1k reads and 33k words! And...wait for it...next chapter is going to have the first bit of smut! ^_^ So if you're** _ **not**_ **reading for the smut, then you've been warned! haha Sorry it has taken so long for that, but I wanted the story to have depth and not be just sex stuff. There WILL be at least a few smut scenes in the story and some fluff scenes too! Thanks so much for all the reads, votes, and comments. You guys have no idea how much they mean to me :3 So for now, I'll leave you with a sexy Freddy pic. You're welcome :3 (NOT MY ART, but if you can't get the pic saved and want me to send it to you, let me know!)**


	16. Chapter 16: Agreement

"Ugh. This is _not_ what I need right now," I complained loudly, knowing that wherever he was hiding, Freddy could hear me.

I had found myself in the boiler room, flat on my back against the steamy grates. Feeling their heat in contrast to the cold of the hospital is what brought me into awareness of the dream world. I sat up and causally brushed myself off, expecting to have to go searching for the demon. I could use this time to see what else he knew or try to figure out his plans. However, the moment I stood, hands grabbed me and spun me around.

"Aw, that's no way to greet your boyfriend," Freddy cackled, his hold on my arms loosening and allowing me to jerk away.

"You are NOT my boyfriend," I barked with a pointed finger.

"See?" he vanished, immediately reappearing behind me, his head resting on my shoulder, "I knew you'd be in a bad mood. What, after having killed your mommy and all... Here I was simply thinking I could cheer you up."

I tensed as his fingers crept along my arm and up to my shoulder. I knew he was sadistic, trying to toy with my emotions, but just the mention of Mom...knowing that it was my actions, my fuck-up to blame for her death, depressed me.

" _You_ murdered her," I choked out, not moving from where he held me.

"Mm..." he purred, pulling my hair gently out of the way so that I could feel his breath hot on my neck, "Maybe so...but who let me in?"

Before I could react, he suddenly lifted his head and shoved me to the ground, the fall too fast for me to break it. Nearly slamming my face into the floor, I became enraged. I wouldn't stand for _anyone_ treating me like this. I quickly recovered, pushing myself up to my knees and then my feet to rotate and face him, ready for a fight. When I laid sight on him again though...my fury started to wane.

Instead of turning upon an empty scene, some distorted memory meant to manipulate me, or even the devious demon smirking playfully, I saw Fred. The man from before the fire...before the Slasher overtook his mind. His clothes had stayed the same, still damaged and sooty. He knelt on the ground, hands on his head with fingers interlaced. His gaze was on the floor and torso straight, rocking slightly back and forth. As I walked near, I could barely make out that he was muttering under his breath.

"Fred?" I called cautiously.

He didn't answer other than to jerk his head to the side, his mumbling growing louder for a second, though I couldn't understand the sound. I kept inching my way closer to him, watching him intently should he decide to spring into an attack. Listening more intently, I started to pick up some of what he was saying.

 _Stop..._ was the first thing I caught. He was repeating the word rather frequently. _No. Don't._ I was hearing them a lot too. I wasn't able to put together a completely thought until I was within arm's reach. That was when I heard: _Don't do this...not to her. If anyone...not to her..._

"Fred?" I tried again, barely able to refrain from resting a hand on his shoulder. If I'd learned anything from the Alderman's psychiatric expertise, it was to never touch a stranger during a psychotic fit. Even if they weren't dangerous, you didn't know how they'd respond. For a lot of patients, even something as simple as that would overwhelm or startle them, making the symptoms intensify.

He continued to mumble. I took a deep breath, freezing in place before audibly clearing my throat. The sound was small at first, but gradually I made it louder until he responded. He didn't move, though, only stopped talking to himself. Then, I called his name once more.

"GO AWAY!" he looked up and yelled before I even finished the word.

The harshness and volume of the command shook me and I took a step back. I might have taken more, might have felt the need to shift back to fight mode...if it hadn't been for those eyes...those sad blue eyes that had become glossy orbs as he tried to refrain from crying, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"Fred..." I repeated gently, wanting to say something to ease his pain.

"I SAID GO AWAY!" he screamed, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

And with that second order, the tears began flowing freely. Moisture even formed in my own eyes as I stood there, trying to figure out how to help him. I couldn't focus on my own pain or agitation when the man now sobbing in front of me was fighting this same agony that he'd been trying to escape for a lifetime and then even longer after that...

"Go..." he whispered, slouching in his spot and dropping his head so I could no longer see his soaked face, "Just go...please."

Regaining myself so that my vision was clear and my body was steady, I took that lost step forward and bent my knees, slowly falling to sit on the ground before him. As I sat, I could see the tip of his nose and the drips from his eyes streaming off of it. Finally, I reached my hand out, seeing that he had started to calm. My hand had just almost touched his sweater when his shot upward and clutched onto my wrist.

"Fred, it's okay..." I tried to soothe when his grip became tighter...but it kept growing in strength until I cringed in discomfort.

"I told you to go away," Freddy was back, his voice low and sinister.

The moment I thought surely he would crack my wrist, he let go, simultaneously pouncing to pin me to the floor. As had become typical lately, I was too late to respond. I found myself laying on the ground with the burned demon holding my forearms beside my head. He had a knee on each of my thighs, keeping me from moving other than to wriggle my hands and feet.

"Oh, Princess," he grinned at my struggle, "You're going to learn better than to fight me like this."

It had only been frustration that made me attempt to get out of his grasp in the first place. I knew that once he had hold of me, to use a different means of freeing myself. At present, I was no match for him in a purely physical fight. I'd be sure that changed in the future. For now though, I'd have to figure something else out...

I eased up, allowing my muscles to relax. The demon seemed pleased, obviously feeling he had won. I tried to keep my eyes focused on him and my expression dull as I came up with a plan. I didn't want him to see the wheels in my head turning, so I'd let him think I'd given up.

"Now what am I going to do with you? Hm..." he grinned deviously.

Call it desperation, intuition, or maybe that look in his eye at that moment...but suddenly, I had my answer. Instead of trying to summon a weapon, play mind games, or talk myself out of this predicament, I mustered all my strength and forced my body upward. My arms remained pinned and my lower half caught beneath him. However, my head shot forward, my face barely reaching his...and...

I planted a kiss directly on his lips.

Holding that position for as long as I could, my stomach and shoulder muscles at last began to ache and I fell onto my back once more. I had momentarily shut my sight as our mouths pecked, but now I saw that he was completely thrown off by this advance. For a second, I couldn't tell if Fred was returning or not. His appearance hadn't changed and he hadn't shifted from his stance. Nonetheless, something in him had softened; his expression betrayed that. As soon as I could notice this, however, sternness filled those ambers again.

"So that's how you want to play," the demon cooed, lowering himself to kiss me.

A moment of uncertainty flashed within me, yet I didn't deny this second contact because when I had stolen that second of intimacy, I realized...I had in fact, fallen for him. I wasn't sure at what point it had all happened, but it had. A simple interest had made me seek him out, a wish to help his broken spirit had been the excuse I'd used to keep him around...but there was something more...a desire, a _love,_ which truly drove me now.

For the first several minutes that we kissed, our lips parting and sucking on the other, he kept me trapped under him. Yet as the touch became more passionate, his grip fell away. Upon feeling this, I threw my arms around his neck, letting my hands slide back over his shoulder to find and hold his cheeks. His scarred skin was rough against my palms and my fingertips caught in the edges of his burns. I wondered if it was unpleasant to him, but he didn't seem to act like it was.

The man atop me began lifting away, my body shadowing the movement until we both sat on the ground, my hands cupping his face and his trailing gently up my sides so that his position was a mirror image of mine. As we held each each other like that, the drawn out kiss continuing, I began to feel a fluttering sensation inside me. Before I could contemplate it too much though, I felt something else...something wet hit my cheek, accompanied by the lips that had been locked with mine slowing their motion and falling away.

My eyes shot open then, seeing that moisture was pooling in the lining of Fred's closed eyelids. _Fred..._ I knew it was him before he even opened his vision and looked at me, which he soon did. As he carefully fluttered his lashes to see again, the beads of salty water that clung to them jumped onto his face. Greyed irises shining with sorrow, he pulled back, retreating completely from me.

"Why are you doing this?" the man asked, nearly choking on the words, "This isn't worth it. I've killed your mother... What else will you lose before you realize that you needn't bother with me?"

I just sat there, knees bent under me and hands in my lap as I gazed at him in much the same position as me. I wasn't sure what to say to that...not because I didn't know the answer, but because I feared speaking it. For one, it didn't logically make sense, no matter how true it was. More than that, I knew he'd throw it in my face, saying I was being childish again...and I couldn't handle his rejection...not now...not after...

Tears welled in my eyes, "You stupid man," I finally cried, "Why won't you just accept my help? What does it matter the cost? If I'm willing to try, why won't you let me?"

Fred's mouth parted and his forehead cringed, but he didn't speak for a few moments, clearly trying to determine the situation, "I," he began, his voice shaky, "I don't want to hurt you...not any more than I already have. You're a good person and I appreciate your effort, but it's best-"

"Best to what?" I growled, "Best I destroy _his_ way to the world so you can go hide away until he finds another path to people? Best you keep trying to fight this by yourself?"

"I have done a lot of horrific things," the man replied in a firmer tone, "And if, _if_ he finds a way to do more of this in the future, so be it...just...don't ask me to put you in danger... I will _only_ cause you suffering..."

Suddenly, his words clicked in my head; both the ones he said now and the ones he had muttered to the beast inside him earlier...

"Why am I any different? How can you be okay with hurting others, but not me?" I asked softly, hoping my suspicion was correct.

He sighed, "It's not that I'm okay with any of it... It's just that... I can't bear the thought of keeping you here... Keeping you from a normal, healthy life instead of one filled with so much chaos and destruction."

He paused, eyes dropping to the ground for a few seconds before looking up and steeling them on me, "You're different because...well, because you're _different_. In all my years as a man, as a demon, I've never met anyone like you. You're special because...because I-"

"I love you," I breathed the answer I had denied sharing earlier, finishing the confession I had wished to hear from the incredible being in front of me.

Fred swallowed then, making an an almost gulping sound as I watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat. He never removed me from his focus though, and as the two of us continued to stare at one another, he slowly started to nod his head.

"Yes...I do," he swallowed again, "And I just want you to be safe and happy."

"Nobody can promise safety in life," I shrugged, "But I can tell you that letting me be here with you and at least try to help... That will make me happy."

I watched as he blinked several times and took a few deep breaths. Initially, I readied to keep arguing, feeling certain that he wasn't about to give in. However, he was soon nodding once more.

"Okay...I'll let you try...and I won't stop trying either."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE** **: So, I guess it didn't turn out to be exactly smut, but as I was writing, I realized I didn't want them to go all the way the first time they acknowledged their feelings for each other lol. There is a lot more story coming, so don't worry though! They'll get there ?**

 **If you're absolutely dying for some Freddy smut right now and you haven't checked it out already, I have a 'Nightmare on Elm Street' collection of short stories called 'Every Town has an Elm Street' that has a couple of smutty one shots with more to come in the future! And if you have any smutty/fluffy or other suggestions for short stories in that book, feel free to request them.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17: Fresh Meat

"What is it exactly that you plan on doing?" Fred asked me after a few moments passed and we had composed ourselves.

"Well..." I hesitated.

"I knew it," he accused, his expression critical, "You're just winging it."

"Hey!" I retorted, twisting to the side to look at him, "I've been doing research. I have a few ideas in mind."

"Sorry," his voice became soft and he slouched in the couch where he sat next to me, "Can't really blame me for not being hopeful though."

I took a deep breath and scooted closer to him, leaning my head against his shoulder. After our crying fit and his shift back into his human form, the scene around us changed into his old home. When I had realized this, I stood up and walked over to the sofa, taking a seat and patting the cushion next to me to gesture him near. Reluctantly, the man had picked himself off the floor and sat down beside me. We had been sitting in silence like that until this new conversation had started.

"I don't blame you," I returned in an equally passive voice.

"What about your mother?" he asked, clearly upset by the thought even though he spoke in a removed tone, "Do you blame me for her death? Because you should."

"No, not you...I blame that...that demon inside you," I answered, tears threatening to rise again, "And myself... If I had done things differently...been stronger...he wouldn't have gotten to her and I wouldn't have been tricked into...into killing her," my voice nearly cracked at the end of the statement.

"None of this is your fault," he sighed, "I'm the weak one here. I wasn't able to shut him out...I couldn't kill him and each time I was presented with the opportunity, I failed. Again and again..."

"That's because you've had to work on your own," I pointed, "You never had someone trying to help you. All anyone ever saw was the Springwood Slasher. They didn't see you."

The man scoffed, "I guess."

A short silence passed and though I used it to nuzzle my face against his arm, I could tell he was still hesitant towards returning any affection. Instead of continuing the sentiment, I sat straight again, and rotated in the seat so that my legs were crossed on top of the couch cushion and I was facing him. I knew the best way for me to make him feel more comfortable with the relationship and understand it was okay to let himself get close to me, was to help him get control over Freddy once and for all.

"When did it happen?" I began my interrogation.

"You mean when did I first realize I was insane?" Fred slowly turned his gaze to the side to look at me, "I'm not sure when it started. I remember never being happy as a kid. I remember being scared all the time, thinking every day when I woke up, it'd be the day I died, beaten to death by my foster father...or bullied to my demise by all the other kids who hated me for no good reason."

His tone gradually changed into one of anger as he carried on with the recollections of his childhood and by the time he had finished, his gaze was forward once more...staring... Reaching a hand out to his lap, I carefully squeezed his thigh, not saying anything at first as I felt out where his mind was. It seemed he was still with me though, because he suddenly put his vision back on me with an awkward half-smile.

"I don't know," his voice was mild once more, "As long as I can remember, everyone hated me. Even my own mother. I tried to understand her reasons for giving me up...but as much as I tried to see her side of it, I just couldn't forgive her...could only resent her for sending me into the hands of that drunkard...into a town that despised me simply because I was a rape baby of a lunatic...the bastard son of a thousand maniacs," Fred turned glossy eyes to me, "That's what they called me. That's the environment I was raised in, all the way from the cradle...I was never given a chance."

I squeezed his leg again, doing my best to stay focused on my reason for the question, "Freddy...the other side, I mean...he came out to protect you because you were vulnerable," I put the theory together for him, "But he corrupted the idea of keeping you safe...made you do evil things and tried to justify it with how cruelly others had treated you."

The man beside me swallowed, his eyes glancing away momentarily before admitting, "I don't feel badly for killing my foster father. That abusive asshole deserved it."

"No," I nodded, "I agree with you. I'm not saying those people should have gone without punishment. Honestly," I contemplated for a minute, "I don't know if you would have made it through your teen years in that atmosphere...not without that other personality there, I mean."

Fred cocked his head quizzically.

"I hate the thought of you, at my age or even younger, seeing suicide as the only option," I clarified.

"I-" his eyes suddenly lit up, jumping away from me and gazing at nothing in particular. His back also straightened and he sat up.

"What is it?" I wondered.

He didn't answer, only kept in that pose. His lips parted and his jaw made hesitated falls, but no sound came out. _Wait. I recognized that look._ A thought had struck him. _Did he realize what had triggered his personality to split?_ Although I tried to be patient so I didn't interrupt whatever process was going on in his brain right then, I found it increasingly difficult as the seconds ticked by. When he began to stand up from the couch, I couldn't hold back any longer.

"Fred? What is it?" I repeated, "Fred?"

"That was it," he breathed, remaining where he was.

"What was?" I spoke hurriedly, both eager and frightened.

He slowly turned his somewhat vacant sight back on me, and whispered, "Suicide."

It wasn't really a clear answer, but I figured he was putting it into words as quickly as he could, so I didn't press him any more and stayed patient. However, when the front door behind me abruptly flung open with a violent gust of air, I jumped up from the sofa and grabbed Fred's arm. The sense of doom was overwhelming...Freddy was returning.

"Fred!" I tugged at his arm as the wind continued to howl, "Fred, listen! Look at me, stay here, tell me what you were thinking!"

The man twisted aggressively, clutching onto my arms so tightly I almost squeaked a complaint, "Get out of here! Now!" behind the demand, his voice was compassionate. I started to protest, only for him to shake me, "Please, get out! He's-he's-"

In a matter of moments, I watched the man holding me shift and morph into the demonic version of himself that his brain had created so many years ago. I managed to break away from his grasp and begin backing away, but I was unable to tear my gaze, watching helplessly as Fred's body contorted in pain and became the thing he hated most- his greatest tormentor. When I finally backpedaled over the home's threshold, the demon in front of me let out a roar of menacing laughter.

"Aw...leaving so soon?" he taunted, flashing from his spot to stand directly in front of me.

"Get the fuck away from me," I warned coldly, spinning around and rushing out the door. I only made it a pace before he reappeared, tripping me so that I nearly fell down onto the concrete.

"AHAHA! But the loony bin is such a good place to make nice, fearful friends!" he cackled.

I stilled my thoughts, making sure the only person I thought about was Fred, simultaneously running down the street. "Think, think, think!" I growled at myself, not having any luck. I needed to wake up. For the time being, Fred was right. It seemed like he was getting stronger...gaining more will power to fight the Slasher... That meant for now, I needed to get out. I could return to talk to my boyfriend when the current danger had passed and I had more time to plan.

 _My boyfriend._

My pace slowed when I realized what I had said... I guess, he _was_ my boyfriend now, wasn't he? A smile started to creep onto my face, only for me to get thrust back into the heat of the situation when Freddy slashed his claw at me, cutting into the tree that I had ducked behind in an attempt to obstruct his view. _Fuck!_ I started running again, his echoing laughter all around me. At last, I stopped. This wasn't doing any good...

Six o'clock. The mandatory sleeping period in the hospital ended at six am when they served morning coffee. Surely the nurses would come by to wake me up since we hadn't been afforded the luxury of alarm clocks. If I could make it through this nightmare until then, I'd be fine... Now, if only I knew what time it was! _Shit_. I remembered something else. Time passes differently in dreams...your mind can conjure up hours worth of time in just minutes or conversely, hours might pass in the real world while only seconds passed in your dream. What was that called...REM sleep. It all depended on how quickly you feel into a deep sleep! _Well, shit, none of this was really helping me..._

It caught up with me then that Freddy's chuckling had vanished. I hadn't really been focused on my surroundings, and had simply stopped moving. Assuming he would just attack me at some point, I had put all my attention on bracing for a fight...but the fight never came. Slowly, I turned around in a small circle to see that I was in a white hallway...the hospital. _Shit_. _Don't think about anyone. Just picture Fred, just picture Fred..._ I kept repeating it like the mantra would save my life, except it wasn't my life I was worried for.

 _I couldn't let him loose in the hospital, of all places! Especially with everyone already believing I was some psycho killer!_ I started to walk down the corridor, heading for the recreational room, halting upon realizing that playing into the image he was creating would only increase the likelihood of him conjuring things to throw me off guard and therefore making me think about the others. So I stood still, refusing to think about anything but Fred.

Gradually, however, I began hearing noises...a crash from behind me...whispers around my head...footsteps sounding in the distance... My heart beat steadily grew faster and faster and my hands began to sweat. I took in deep breaths, exhaling slowly, deliberately, to calm myself. I wouldn't play into his games. He knew I had the upper hand...Not only was my mind strong, but Fred was within him, weakening him, if only with his desire to keep me safe...alive...

The lights eventually started to dim, fading out until I was left in total blackness. At first, I was trembling, sure some monsters in the dark would attack me, destroy me from the inside out, or even vice versa. My body started to feel heavier and heavier until it was like everything was numb...like the only part of me that still existed was my mind. Then...I heard a voice.

"You should wake up now..."

I fought against whatever was taking over my physical senses. I felt comfort in whoever was speaking, yet at the same time, knew that I couldn't afford to trust anything while I was stuck in _his_ world. Struggling with all my might, I heard the voice again.

"Hey, wake up!"

Finally, I found enough strength that I saw light again. I was still standing in the hallway! In front of me, something was taking form...an outline...a person! Pushing with everything I had, the details soon became clear, allowing me to make out the vacant face and really hear its voice...that strangely bubbly voice that belonged to it.

"Wake up, sleepyhead! I know you don't want to miss coffee!"

 _Naya?!_

Everything fell to black once more, the overwhelming feeling of my body losing its motor function coming full force, then suddenly starting to wane as I shot up in my bed, gasping. To my side, Naya knelt on the floor. Her eyes were big as they observed me intently, waiting for me to acknowledge her. When I only kept steadying my breathing, she spoke anyway.

"Did you have a bad dream? I didn't scare you did I? I didn't mean to if I did. I just know you'd like to know that they're making the first pot of-" her incessant talking spilled out like vomit.

"Naya!" I managed to speak, jumping from my bed and grabbing her hands the moment she had risen as well, "Were you in my dream? Did you see him?"

It was the most quiet I had seen her and as she stared blankly at me, I didn't understand why. It wasn't until her hands started shaking in mine, that I realized I had scared her. Instantly, I let go and stepped away. However she stayed right where she had been.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." I apologized.

The girl didn't respond.

"Naya?" I breathed, carefully waving a hand in front of her face.

Still nothing.

 _Shit!_

"NAYA!" an angry voice called from the doorway. My head spun to see a nurse marching into my room, "Naya," the man put an arm carefully around her back in a sort of air-hug as he didn't actually touch her, "How many times do we have to tell you to stay out of people's rooms?"

I thought she would also refuse to react with him, but oddly, she blinked rapidly a few times and looked back and forth. She then began walking away with the nurse close behind her, still not resting so much as a finger on her... Maybe it was more than the the 'no touching' rule she had been abiding by...it appeared that physical contact might be a trigger for her... Nevertheless, I needed to find out if she was in danger...and fast!


	18. Chapter 18: Partner

Cautiously, I followed after Naya and the nurse who guided her to the recreational room where he left her sitting at one of the tables. I paused in the doorway, observing them until he returned my way. I had wanted to ask him if she was okay and all, only remembering to close my mouth when he had gotten about a foot away. Either he saw my hesitation, or he just figured it would be good to share some information with me, because he did just that, though it wasn't really anything I hadn't already learned.

"She'll be fine," he told me quietly, "Just give her some space. And, I know she probably startled you, but remember there's a good reason for the 'no touching' mandate."

I turned my head slightly enough that I could see he was smiling. Upon my acknowledgement, he moved on, back to the nurse's station in the hall behind me. I was still intrigued with how nicely I'd been treated. _They did all know why I was here, right?_ My eyes stayed on Naya as I entered the room, slowly pacing near her. I knew he said to give her time, but I really had to make sure she was safe...granted I didn't know how to start with that. On one hand, I _had_ seen her while I was asleep, so Freddy had to have seen her too, right? That meant I needed to explain the situation so she could have a fighting chance against not letting him spread further. On the other hand, if it had just been a slight of mind where I'd only mixed reality with the dream since I was waking up, then telling her about it would actually put her in danger when she hadn't been. _Would she even believe the story anyway?_

"Naya?" I whispered once I was standing behind the chair opposite her. The girl twitched at the sound of my voice, but didn't look at me. Making sure nobody was coming in and my back was to the door, I continued, "I didn't mean to upset you. I'll be careful not to do that again."

She remained just as she was, silent and motionless. I heard footsteps coming from the door then so I turned, seeing that a couple other patients had come in along with a different nurse who was holding a full coffee pot. Deciding not to push her and just try again after a little while, I began to walk away. Coffee did sound really good... Hopefully it wasn't crappy...

"Wait," Naya called softly, causing me to spin around. She was still staring off into nothingness, but her usually stoic face actually appeared...hurt, "Please don't give up on me."

Her depressed plea tugged at my heart, "I'm not giving up on you," I answered awkwardly, not completely understanding what was going on. She didn't say anything else so I put a careful foot backward, seeing how she would react because now I was confused on whether to give her that space or not.

"Please don't!" she squeaked a little louder, setting her eyes in my direction, which were finally focused on something: me. Not only that, but I could see emotion in her expression for the first time. She was clearly struggling to keep from crying.

Putting that same foot forward once more, I pulled the chair my hands had been resting on out and took a seat, "Is it okay if I sit with you?"

Naya nodded rapidly and in the same instance, her eyes grew distant and began drying as she returned to her normal state. From my new position, I watched the nurse across the room pour coffee into small styrofoam cups that he had placed out on the counter near the cabinets where they kept our toiletries locked up. One patient, a rather overweight older man was standing nearby, swaying gently from side to side as his sight stayed glued to the drinks. The staff member paid no attention to him and simply finished up before turning to address everyone.

"Coffee's ready. Y'all come get a cup," his eyes wandered about the small group of us when he spoke and I could be wrong, but he didn't seem like a very approachable guy.

Glancing over at Naya, I questioned whether I should actually get up or not. Gradually, I lifted myself out of the chair and stood straight. She didn't take any notice of the movement, neither did she rise herself, so I slipped around the table to face her so the others didn't see me talking, "Are you going to come get a cup?"

"I'm not allowed to have coffee," she answered plainly, "They only serve decaf at night."

Caffeine...it was caffeine she couldn't have if decaf was alright... I remembered Dylan mentioning something about certain chemicals affecting mental health. Caffeine was one, as was estrogen which was apparently present in some foods like peanuts and soy. He said that most modern people were addicted to caffeine and didn't even know it. Our bodies were so used to having it in our system because of soda, coffee, energy drinks, even chocolate, that if we were to stop eating it abruptly, it could cause withdrawal symptoms like headaches, anxiety, and depression even if the person was otherwise healthy. I was told that some psychiatric patients were recommended to not have it in their diet. Since it was so easy to upset the chemicals in their brains, it was better for them to avoid it altogether. Not all of them were like this, he said, but some of the more unstable cases were as a precaution or if it had been shown to cause adverse reactions. So Naya's brain had to be pretty sensitive.

During my thoughts, I had made it over to the counter and picked up one of the small cups. Looking over to the man who had been first in line, I saw that he had reached into an open drawer that had been previously hidden from my sight. From it, he was retrieving sugar and cream packets, so I scooted over and grabbed some myself, setting my coffee back on the table while I fixed it up. Once I had disposed of the trash, I went back to our table, sipping at my drink.

"Ugh," I complained as I sat back down.

"Does it taste bad?" Naya wondered.

"No, it tastes fine; it's just not hot," I snarled my nose in distaste.

"Well, we wouldn't want you burning someone, now would we?" the voice scared me as I hadn't realized the nurse who prepared the drinks had strolled close-by, "Can't have anyone else getting hurt."

The man glared at me when he talked, never ceasing from his stroll. Aaaaand there it was, the first bit of hostility I'd been anticipating. It wasn't so bad. Hopefully that'd be the worse I had to deal with while I was in here.

"That's Joey," the girl next to me observed once he'd gone, "He's a jerk."

"Nah, I kind of deserved that," I shrugged, stirring my beverage absentmindedly.

"Really?" Naya's tone became cheery again, "Ooo are you going to tell me why you're in here now?"

I took a deep breath, "Yeah," I sighed, it needed to be discussed with her anyway, "I accidentally...killed my mom."

"If it was an accident, why did you deserve that?" her tone became perplexed.

"Because as far as they know, I did," I answered, "And I was kind of the one that set the real killer loose so..."

"Ooo so he's still out there," she hummed.

Furrowing my brow, I studied the young woman. Other than spazzing out when I took her hand, she was very chipper about everything, at least in voice. She was very curious and peculiar; the two traits, coupled with her consistently flat face, somehow making me both like her and be wary of her. In any case, I had to figure out if she was at risk.

"Yeah... Naya, do you dream at all?" I inquired.

"You mean like daydream or nightdream?" she cocked her head to the side, not waiting for a response before carrying on, "I do both. I think it's important to think about all sorts of ideas. It's good for stress too. And when I'm asleep, it's like the all the cool stuff I haven't been able to bring to my conscious thoughts finally comes out."

I paused, "Okay... What about demons though?"

"They're not so bad," she shrugged, "I think they're just misunderstood."

Alright, so she dreamt, she believed in demons, and she was completely eager for my story. No doubt she _would_ believe the rest. But should I tell her or just wait and see tonight if something else happened? If I went into Freddy's world tonight with her in mind, she'd get drawn in, and if I tried to check on her, he would just follow me. Suddenly, I remembered something from my research: fear. Regardless of if she knew about Freddy or not, if she wasn't afraid of him, he couldn't get to her. That's why so many who had heard the stories while he was connected to our world stayed safe- they didn't fear him. Taking another drink, I watched the girl as her head began bobbing about again like it had yesterday when she was relaxed and chatting away. I didn't get the sense that he would scare her.

"The person who killed my mother is a demon," I blurted, "He lives in people's dreams."

"Oh you mean Fred Krueger," she casually remarked.

 _What. The. Fuck_.

"How did you know about him?" I breathed.

"My family lived in Springwood for generations," she explained, "My grandparents used to tell ghost stories about the Springwood Slasher. I always wondered if any of them were true, but I figured they probably weren't since there hadn't been any deaths that I'd heard of."

"There hasn't been any incident in a couple of decades because his glove was his last link to this world and it's been in a museum," I informed.

"Oh, well that makes sense," she mused, "I'd be careful about sharing this stuff with anyone though; they'll think you're crazy for sure."

I almost retorted that I _wanted_ them to think I was crazy, but reconsidered, seeing as I also didn't want it known that I was lying, "Yeah, I know. I'm only telling you because I think he's going to come after you."

"Why?"

"Because I saw you in my dream," I admitted, "That means he might be able to get to you now."

"So you want me to help you kill him?" the girl's voice heightened again like she was thrilled.

"No, I don't want to kill him," I shushed, "I just want you to _not_ be afraid and not let him know about others if he comes around you."

"Aww," she pouted, "I was hoping for some action."

"Believe me, if he comes into your dreams, there will be plenty..." I assured.

"Okay then!" she cheered, allowing a few moments to pass where I chugged down the rest of my coffee, "But why don't you want to kill him?"

I hesitated, "Wasn't it you that just said demons were misunderstood?" I scoffed.

"Yeah, but he still killed your mom," she pointed.

"Fred has a split personality," I explained, "It was only one of him that did it- the demon side."

Naya stilled in contemplation, mouthing the diagnosis as if trying to recall what it meant, "They told me that the voices in my head were like that. That the voices weren't me, but if I listened to them, that I might do bad things I normally wouldn't have."

"You're schizophrenic?" I surmised.

"That's what they tell me," she shrugged, her voice solemn.

Realizing that she didn't really like the turn in conversation, I chose to skip over discussing her diagnosis, "I'm trying to help him get better so he doesn't hurt anyone else in the future."

"Then I want to help too," her tone picked back up.

"Alright, but you can't share anything about this, alright?" I warned.

"No problem!" Naya tipped her head back and forth happily, "Even if I do let something slip, I talk so much that most people don't listen to half of what I say."

 _Ugh. Oh you don't say..._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize that the the buildup has been kind of slow and I know not much is happening right now, but it's going to pick up soon ^.^ Thanks for reading! 


	19. Chapter 19: A Look

"It's good to see you. Dylan has been a mess of worry," Dr. Alderman greeted me when I was shown into his office that afternoon.

I didn't say anything, only averted my gaze from the man awkwardly as I stood just inside the door that had been closed behind me. The first thought that went through my mind was that I wasn't sure if it was professional for him to mention his son since it linked him to my case personally, which was usually taken to mean he couldn't be impartial. 'Conflict of interests' was what it was called in the legal world. Nonetheless, I wasn't about to complain. I had been worried about my best friend too. Sure, he had other people he could hang with, but the two of us were so close, I knew he really wouldn't want to resort to their company over mine.

"Why don't you sit down and get comfortable?" Charlie gestured to the small couch next to his desk.

At first, I kept my position as from what Dylan had taught me, body language played a huge role in determining a person's mental state. The only problem was was that the same action could mean more than one thing and it was left up to the psychiatrist to read the entirety of your behavior in a given period to really judge it properly. So if I wasn't exact, I could inadvertently send a completely different message. However, not instantly taking a seat would suggest paranoia and possibly disassociation, as would refusing to look directly at the man. I waited a few moments for the doctor to jot down a note and then attempt to reach me again.

"Everything is alright," he assured, not even so much as shifting where he sat, "You're safe here. I just want to hear your side of the story."

There was a short pause without my moving as his studious eyes remained glued to me.

"I know you're not an evil person and I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt your mom like that," he continued in the same calm tone, "I only want to understand what really happened so I can help you out."

I nervously grabbed my arm and switched my weight from one foot to the other, keeping my vision focused on the floor. Standing like that for a few moments, I finally relented and walked cautiously up to the sofa and sat down, being sure not to hide my anxiety. Then, I turned my head to the side so that I wasn't facing him, and stared at nothing with an occasional blink. I heard the doctor scribble again before speaking.

"Do you not trust me anymore?" there was a slight inflection in his voice that I knew was only put there to try and illicit an emotional response from me.

Admittedly, it was difficult for me not to reply. I didn't want him to think I didn't trust him. After Mom...I certainly wasn't ready to lose anyone else that I cared about. What allowed me to refrain from reaction was silently repeating that Charlie would understand, that he wouldn't condemn our relationship because of how I responded under stress. I _had_ to pull this off or I'd be sent to prison for murder. I'd be even less use to Freddy under those restrictions and I may never see Dylan or have any sort of real life again. So I simply kept quiet.

The doctor sighed, "The police found the glove you bought from the museum on your nightstand... They determined it was the murder weapon... Do you remember what happened that night at all?"

The room settled into silence again. _Poor Charlie_ , he had to feel pretty terrible right about now...probably felt guilty for not seeing that he was right about my obsession with Freddy and doing something about it before it was too late. I hated that I couldn't just tell him the truth, though from his viewpoint, that would look equally bad...since I technically had been the one who killed my mom, granted I had been tricked into it.

"Did the two of you have an argument? Some sort of fight that made you angry?" he continued his interrogation and I continued my quiet contemplation. Another sigh from the man, "Please look at me, sweetheart. I really do want to help, but I can't do that if you don't talk to me."

 _Bullshit_. I tried to tell myself that he was merely doing his job and if I knew him as well as I thought I did, he _was_ being kind and wanted to keep this from ruining my life more than it had to. Even so, I was well aware that my speaking to him did not constitute the single way he could assist. I did need to start giving some manner of reaction though, so I didn't hesitate to keep myself from several shakes of the head. Clearly glad for the sign that I was still mentally present no matter how vaguely, he finally moved for the first time since I had entered except for to write in his tablet.

Leaning forward in his chair, he inquired, "Was there someone else in the house that evening?"

My head shot upward and I looked at him for just a second before I managed to look away, shaking my head again. I hadn't honestly expected the question. I barely saw his face out of the corner of my eye, changing to a quizzical expression as he stayed focused intently on me. _Fuck. What was I supposed to say now?_ He definitely took that to mean that there _had_ been someone else or at least I believed that there had been. Not only did he know all about my fascination with the Springwood Slasher, he worked at the same fucking hospital where so many of Freddy's victims had been a patient. What if he knew more about all this than he had been letting on? What if he didn't think I had killed my mom, but suspected the dream demon? No, that was crazy. Dr. Alderman would never be of the mindset to put stock in ghost stories. He was too science based.

"Look," his voice became even softer than before and his compassion was now sincere, "Obviously there was a third person present when your mom was killed. You can tell me...so I can get you out of this."

"You won't believe me," I mumbled.

"I'm a psychiatrist. I've heard just about everything you can think of. I'm not going to judge you, and I know you wouldn't lie to me about something so serious," he assured.

I took in a deep breath, eyes still on the floor, "Freddy's real."

The doctor settled back in his chair, "Was it Freddy who was at your home?"

Either one would work for my case so it didn't really matter, but I thought I'd be able to tell by his demeanor if he truly believed me or had resigned to the fact I was delusional. However, it was unclear. While he fell back into a more professional pose, his tone had retained a balanced amount of both reserve and understanding. I slowly nodded.

"I see...and he was the one that killed your mother, not you?" the man surmised.

Another nod.

"Alright," he seemed perplexed, "Can you explain to me _how_ Fred Krueger got there?"

I swallowed, sighing inwardly. Maybe he didn't hold stock in the legend after all, "The glove," I whispered.

"He got there because his old glove was there?"

I noted how he worded it where no blame was placed on me. It was a tactic to keep me talking by making my mind see that he was on my side whether he really was or not. The fact that he was asking these questions made me think that he wasn't and instead was trying to see if I would reveal more. I guess that was it for the time being. I'd carry on with the plan Dylan had crafted for me and enter another bout of isolated thought, removing myself from much any interaction with others.

Dr. Alderman spoke my name after a few minutes had passed. Apparently realizing that I was done discussing with him for the day, he glanced down at his notes once more and wrote something. My head peaked up a little bit when I heard him exhale, just enough to see that his lips were pursed and his brow furrowed. I wished I could know what he was thinking about. I really hoped it was positive...well, you know what I mean, as far as giving me a psych defense for the trial. When I saw that he was starting to look away from my file, I quickly shifted my gaze so he didn't see that I had been watching him.

"You're free to go; I'll speak to you again in a few days... Dinner should be served soon," he reminded, "Make sure you're eating, okay?"

I didn't acknowledge him, but quickly jumped up from my spot and strolled to the door as if I had grown uncomfortable in his company which, more or less, was true. Not really closing the door behind me, I traipsed out to the recreational room where Naya was sitting on the sofa, body swaying side to side as she watched what looked to be one of the newer shows on Cartoon Network. With my head hung, I walked around the furniture and took a seat on the cushion beside her.

She jerked at my presence without ever taking her attention from the television, "How did your appointment go? Did you say anything about me?"

The last part of her inquiry caught me off guard and I crinkled my forehead as I looked at her, "Fine...and no...why?"

The girl shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. Just curious. Have you seen this show before?"

I glanced at the TV. I recognized the characters, but couldn't really place the series, "I don't think so."

"It's one of my favorites," she chirped, followed by a long-winded explanation of what the cartoon was about and who she liked most and so on and so forth.

"Naya, that's really interesting and all, but we kind of have more important things to focus on," I politely interrupted.

"I think you worry too much," her eyes hadn't left the flashing pictures on the screen though she stopped moving so often, settling her body and voice into a more somber demeanor.

Instead of protesting, I humored her observation, "Why do you think that?"

"Because you obviously have a lot more control over this situation with Freddy than you realize," a commercial came on then and she twisted her body in my direction, resting her vision upon me though of course, her eyes never directly looked at me, "Besides, with each time he tries to get to you, the stronger you become and him too."

We had talked about my encounters with Fred in more detail in the hours prior to my time in with the doctor. She hadn't really said a lot other than to awe or gawk about how cool it was or share stories of her own that she thought were pertinent, however loosely related they actually were. I honestly hadn't thought she'd been paying much heed, but knew forcing her into structure would likely only agitate her or make her forgetful, so to hear she had come up with a solid theory was pleasing.

"I always assumed that the more times he got to try, the more _he_ would become stronger and win," I explained.

My friend shrugged, "Yeah, but you and Fred are given that same chance and you two are the ones that keep coming out on top."

"Except for the fact that my mom is dead," I muttered pessimistically, a pang hitting my heart with the trauma I had yet to deal with.

"That only made Fred fight harder," she pointed, "Didn't you notice that?"

I leaned back and considered this new angle. I hadn't seen it like that before, but she was right. The next time I was in the dream world after mom had been killed, Fred had been able to stay out an incredibly long span of time compared to previous instances. He also had properly warned me about the Slasher's return. Upon this realization, I felt a weight in my chest lift. _Maybe this wasn't going to be as difficult as I first thought..._ But that doesn't mean I could let my defenses down.

"What about you, though?" I wondered, "If he comes after you..."

"Let him," she was staring contentedly at the cartoon that was playing again, "I want to be his friend too."

"That's not exactly how..." I shook my head, deciding on a different route of handling the problem, "What if the evil side of him tries to hurt you?"

"Then I'll fight back," she answered matter-of-factly, "He can't be any worse than the others."

Her words confused me, "Others?"

The girl fell completely still, making a slow, deliberate twist to gaze at me...actually making eye contact, "The voices like to take forms inside my dreams."

For a moment I couldn't break away from her, the whole ordeal feeling quite eerie, but soon there was a loud yell from the television that tore her attention from me and she began happily rocking back and forth as she finished watching her show. She had both freaked out and intrigued me. Now I was curious as to what nightmares she already dealt with and how she would stand up to Freddy...not that I wasn't going to do anything to intentionally find out.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE** **: Just wanted to share my new Freddy shirt! So happy ? it was on sale lol**


	20. Chapter 20: Twisted Fate

"Fred?" I called cautiously.

In contrast to the gloomy atmospheres that usually greeted me, I found myself in a park, brightly lit by the midday sun, surrounded by vivid flowers, green trees, and well-trimmed grass. Breathing in the crisp air was a welcome change of pace. I had begun to figure that the only things I'd ever smell again while sleeping would be something burning or the aftermath of it. Walking along the path, I picked up the sound of songbirds. I halfway expected to hear children yelling and laughing as they played on the swing sets and other equipment I was nearing, but the chirping and occasional rustle of leaves in the wind was it.

"It's good to see you again," a kind voice spoke over my shoulder causing me to turn around and smile at its source.

"The same to you," I returned, "Are you doing this?" I gestured at the scene around us.

"Yeah," Fred laughed nervously, "I never thought about it before, but I got to thinking after you left...if _he_ can control the dream world, then I should be able to as well."

"Yeah," I grinned, gratefully taking in the setting, "Is it difficult?"

The man sighed, "Yes and no. I mean, I'm technically controlling it, but not actively. When I began trying, this place just sort of...popped out," he shrugged, "I've been trying to change things and I thought I was at first, but then I realized that it was only the longer I stayed present, the more details would surface. Like the birds," he glanced away from me, smiling up at the air, "They didn't start singing until you came in."

I couldn't help a blush, simultaneously shifting my gaze downward in an attempt to hide it. Apparently I didn't do a good job though, because I heard him chuckle the moment I had looked away. Putting my sights on Fred once more, I saw that he was staring at me with those beautiful blue eyes soft and a wide beam stretching across his face.

"You're so adorable," he chuckled.

"I am not," I retorted, only making me blush again.

With another small chortle, he stepped up to my side and held out his arm, "Walk with me?"

Grinning like an idiot, I wrapped my hands around the offered arm and began strolling down the sidewalk with him. We took several paces in silences, simply enjoying the small touch and the scenery. We actually ended up spotting a mockingbird, who seemed to be the musician we'd been listening to. After we paused to admire the creature, our arms releasing from each other, Fred decided to start up a new conversation.

"So, tell me about yourself," he said, "We haven't really had a lot of time to just talk."

"There's not much to say," I shrugged, "I'm pretty boring...that or I'm a weirdo. I don't really know which one, but people seem to think the second."

"I'd have to agree with them then," Fred concurred readily, causing me to jerk my head to the side with a quizzical expression. Likewise, he turned to smile at me, "Weird means you're different...unusual...and you definitely are. You're unlike everyone else and since most people are shitty, that is a very good thing."

It was a strange way to deliver a compliment which just made me like the man even more. I laughed and looked back at the bird who decided to fly off in that same second, "Well, I'm glad you think so. It'd be awful if you thought I was shitty too."

"I could never think that," he hummed, still beaming at me.

Smirking, I continued our walk, "I saw the doctor today. I can't tell what he thinks, but I told him you were real."

Fred halted in his steps, "Why?"

Spinning on my heels, I put my attention on him, "I don't know. Figured that whether he believed me or not, it would work in my favor."

The man lifted a hand and scratched the back of his head, "I guess so..."

"You don't think it will?" my brow furrowed.

"It's just...I'm afraid they'll put you on Hypnocil," he admitted.

"Hypnocil?" I repeated confusedly.

Fred dropped his hand and took a pace nearer to me, "There have been doctors who believed that I...about me being in kids' dreams. And they prescribed this drug to keep them from dreaming. Even some of the ones who didn't actually believe the demon was real would give Hypnocil to their patients because they were too afraid to sleep."

"If he does, then I just won't take it," I shrugged, "No big deal."

The man sighed, "It is if this doctor of yours _does_ believe and then there's another incident that you could be linked to."

"There won't be," I closed the distance between us and took hold of his hands supportively, "We'll have this figured out soon, I'm sure of it. And in the meantime, you can steer him away from killing around me if he does take over."

Fred leaned forward to kiss my forehead, "I believe in you," he whispered.

I let go of his hands and threw my arms around his neck, pulling the two of us into a tight embrace. I felt so comfortable cuddled up next to his chest with him holding onto me...protecting me. I hadn't felt so at peace since...since I could remember. That's why I no longer doubted my feelings for him and I could tell that he wasn't resisting our compatibility now either. Finally falling back to stand on my own, my eyes fluttered to the scene around me.

The park was gone and in its place was an unfamiliar bedroom. The comforter and drapes were outdated in style, but everything in the area was clean and pleasant. There were even freshly picked flowers of yellow, purple, red, orange...all nestled gorgeously in a vase on the vanity near the closet. Glancing down the hallway through the open door, I surmised that we were once more in 1428 Elm Street and by the looks of it, in Fred's old bedroom.

My lips curled into a devious grin as I looked at the man, "Is someone's mind in the gutter?" I jabbed playfully.

Surprisingly enough, his cheeks flashed a hint of red at my accusation, yet he didn't deny it or retreat. Instead he let a strong hand slide down my arm and grab onto my wrist, keeping flirtatious eyes on me as he led me over to the bed where I sat without question. The man slowly moved closer to me, putting his palms on the mattress to hold himself up as he crept over, my body bending backward in tandem, until I was lying on the bed with Fred carefully hovering above.

Not tearing away from each other's gaze, he leaned in, placing his lips on mine so that we locked together at the mouth, our vision shutting to enjoy every tiny sensation. Ever since I had kissed him to force Freddy away, I had been wanting to do this again, but with more sincerity...more time. And so soon I had been given that chance. I didn't hold back, taking his lips and sucking at them, slipping my tongue inside him so that it tickled his own, the added saliva only heightening the lust that was growing between us.

Instinctively, my hands reached out and grabbed his sweater, fingertips trailing downward to find its end so that they could slide under it, feeling his chest. The man wasn't overly muscular yet his body was defined, firm to the touch, his skin somehow both soft and strong at the same time. His lips disconnected from mine momentarily, my eyes coming open to see that he was also beginning to run his hands underneath my shirt, feeling all the way up to my chest and cupping my breasts in the bra I still wore.

My spine arched and my lids fell shut once again as he massaged me, my own grasp on him faltering as I lost myself in the feeling. I felt the weight of his body bear down on me so that we could continue our passionate kiss that had grown incredibly eager from both sides. It seemed that both of us were becoming discontent to settle for second base and wanted to go further. He lifted himself again, allowing me to inch the rest of my body onto the bed and scoot so that he could as well, but not before the both of us had hurriedly slipped our pants off, dropping them carelessly to the floor.

As my vision shot downward to see the now exposed man in front of me, a rush of thoughts flew through my mind, starting with the simple things like worrying about protection which was nearly instantly brushed away upon the realization that I was in a damn dream...literally. The next of which included studying his form and finally understanding how such a thing could be attractive. The last and the most important...was how intense that urge deep within me, originating from my own groin now was, knowing that I was about to have my craving satisfied.

Once more, his chest fell onto mine and we locked lips, faces heated with fever fueled by devious desire. My entire being tensed when I felt the tip of his cock brush against my lower lips, just barely hitting my clit, though it made my body respond even so. I hadn't paid attention to it earlier, but then I became aware that I was wet in my nether region. As he glided himself across the area in a repeated tease, I could feel myself becoming more moist.

Gaze upon me, mouth hanging in anticipation, I breathed the word 'please,' begging him to take the next step. He did so gladly, gently parting my lower lips with his fingers and pressing himself further in. The first motion was a little more intense than I had prepared for, the short blunt pain causing me to jolt. The man atop me immediately paused and offered a worried expression, silently asking if I was alright. When I nodded, he didn't hesitate to carry on.

Still, he made sure to push gently, getting inside me in small increments that, unlike the first, didn't catch me off guard. When finally, I could feel my walls clenching tightly around his member, I curled my arms around his torso, squeezing him as I moaned with each tiny movement. Holding himself up with his own hands on the bed on either side of me, he pulled back until he was almost out of me again, before forcing himself in with one single motion.

It was hard to do anything except make low noises of contentedness in his ear as I smelled his blonde locks and took in the feeling of our bodies twisted together, every drop of sweat and saliva so sweet to realize. I could hear Fred grunting and moaning as well, as he thrust his hips backward and forward, continuing at a pleasurable speed that gradually came faster as I softly told him how good it felt. He didn't respond except to keep going...keep building that blissful ball of expectation within me.

At the moment I thought I would burst, he slowed almost to a stop. Loosening my grip on him I glanced into his eyes, wondering...but only a moment. It didn't take long to see that he was holding off...for me... His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, taking a couple of breaths before pecking me on the lips and picking up his pace again. Instantly after, I came, my whole body releasing every ounce of tension and leaving me in a lulled state of complete gratification. I was unable to keep my arms around him any longer, and I fell to lay flat on the mattress once more, our bodies still attached as he lingered over me.

But he had stopped again...despite not having felt him come... Breathing heavily, I opened my now weak eyelids and looked at the man. _Shit..._

"Fred?" I somehow managed upon noticing that he was fighting against the demon, his grey-blue spheres fluttering between changing to that amber color.

He didn't move...and neither did I. I was too afraid that I'd say or do the wrong thing and set him off. I saw his neck move as he blinked rapidly a few times, at last placing his focus on me... I was relieved to see that it was still Fred who was with me. He smiled, lifting a hand to caress my cheek. I gave a sheepish grin in return, scrunching my shoulders, but not quite blushing. I was so happy and so relaxed in that moment. That was...until the hand on my face suddenly became cold.

My eyes darted to the side, heart jumping upon seeing the steely blades of the Slasher's glove curled next to me where Fred's palm had been. Vision flitting back over to the man on top of me, I saw maroon spheres peering down. I jerked, not knowing how to handle this unexpected shift in the middle of...such an intimate situation. But Freddy didn't allow me to pull away. Instead he bared his teeth and dropped himself so that his weight nearly crushed me into place.

"Hello, sweetcheeks," he cackled, "You having fun without me?"

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: And there you go, that smut I've been promising! More to come xD. I am curious if anyone has a theory about what is going to happen in the next chapter though. Shoutout to anyone who gets it right ^-^ Hope y'all enjoyed and thanks for reading and for all the votes and comments!**


	21. Chapter 21: Love Me

"Let. Me. Go," I ordered, keeping my voice as cold and authoritative as possible.

"Aw, but princess," Freddy cooed, pinning me to the bed with his weight against my body alone, "It was me that you kissed, remember?"

"Yeah, to get _Fred_ back," I retorted.

"So you didn't like it?" his lips curled into a knowing grin, "I don't like being lied to," I could feel his hot breath on my ear, the hairs on my neck rising, "I could _feel_ you..."

My knee-jerk reaction was literal, the abrupt force to his groin causing his body to bend. Momentarily, he lost control of his position, allowing me to push him off. As I flipped onto my stomach to begin crawling away though, he grabbed a chunk of my hair and yanked my head backward.

"You little bitch!" he growled, sinking his claw into my arm and pulling me onto my spine again, giving one final shove so that I laid down.

I expected him to keep yelling or attacking, but as I set eyes on him once more, watching him stand there with his chest heaving...I saw his expression slowly soften...

"Fred?" I breathed, assuming he was returning.

"No," the demon whispered, vision not directly on me; he was staring blankly.

Furrowing my brow, I cautiously inched onto my side, then up to sit on the floor, "Are you...are you okay?"

My gaze fell up and down his form. He didn't look any different than usual...his skin was just as charred, clothes as dirty. It was definitely Freddy, yet the energy about him felt strange. He was confused, a little considerate, even. Maybe he was now fighting Fred instead of the other way around. I opened my mouth to say something else, but he beat me to speaking.

"Why don't you love me?" his face contorted into one of a hurt puppy...no, worse: a tortured soul.

"I..." I tried to formulate a response while beginning to stand.

The demon was on me in an instant, forcing me against a wall he had to have just called upon, and clutching his hand around my throat. Clicking his blades beside my head, his lips became a snarl that awkwardly dropped as he studied me. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but even if I had anything to say, I couldn't due to how tightly he was gripping my esophagus. Although I had been able to keep a steady flow of air, albeit barely, it was getting harder with each breath. His eyes turned critical and malicious like his usual self, but he had to have seen the desperation in my own as my mind attempted deciphering just what the hell was going on.

The man smashed his mouth into mine, my lips not parting for him at first. However, when I felt his fingers loosen around my neck, I kissed him back. I was entirely intrigued by his inquiry: _Why don't you love me?_ The words had been repeating in my brain ever since he'd said it along with my counter-ask: _Why did he care?_

It was my understanding that the Slasher was comprised of the darkest parts of Fred. This side had come to life because it was the only way his mind could figure out to save him from the cruel treatment he'd undergone. The young Krueger didn't believe he was strong enough to do anything about his situation, so he had allowed Freddy to take control. Over the years when he'd _needed_ the help, the Slasher would come, eventually gaining enough power that he acted contrary to Fred's will. I could only imagine how much more difficult that had become for my poor boyfriend when his other personality had made a deal with the dream demons...

There was that word again...I wasn't quite used to referring to him that way... The man had dropped his hand to my chest as we continued to kiss. It was odd feeling him grope my breasts as his knives strummed threateningly next to my ear. I was definitely conflicted. In one sense, he was technically my boyfriend granted he was the worst fragment that had been amplified to make him even worse than he really was. On the other hand, he _was_ evil and had already fucked my life up...

As I got used to his touch, which was much rougher compared to how Fred had been, I found myself slowly starting to explore him. Despite it being the same body and technically the same person, it felt as if I was cheating with someone completely new. I tried to remember that it wasn't betrayal and that I had to work with Freddy as well, in order to get a proper handle on this entire mess. Nonetheless, it was hard to deny the thoughts... I didn't realize that I had remained naked below this whole time until his knee had begun pressing in between my thighs, pushing upward so firmly that I knew the leftover moisture had to be soaking his jeans. _Why had he dressed himself, but not me?_ Nevermind, I probably didn't want to know.

My mind kept fighting with the ethics of this little affair, but what I couldn't deny was that either way...his motions were still arousing. With the final decision that there was nothing wrong with what I was doing, I grabbed his chest and pushed harder into him. Thinking he would be glad for my consent, it threw me off when he growled and rammed me back into the wall, simultaneously tearing my hands from him and pinning them over my head.

"I know how to make you love me," he rasped, face void of emotion until gradually a devious smile spread across it.

Suddenly, his body dropped from standing before me, taking my hands with him so that he held them in his, beside my hips as he knelt in front of me. My head tilted downward and his up, the two of us gazing at each other for a few moments. His expression remained confident, teasing me in my baffled state and apparently very amused with how I was reacting... My palms sweat as he dug fingernails into one, blades cutting into the other as well as my wrist. The demon flitted his sight away from mine and back, to make me acknowledge the fact that his head was directly in front of my crotch. I emitted a small gasp as my brain finally caught up to his plan.

"Freddy, don't-" I began, only to have the man's hold strengthen to the point I winced with pain, yet just for a second as he simultaneously jolted forward, opening his mouth and slicking his tongue across the split in my mound.

I hadn't ever had someone go down on me, neither had I really thought too terribly much about it. I'd heard some people say how good it felt and others complain about it being gross. Unable to pull out of his grip, I realized I was going to find out firsthand my own thoughts since it seemed Freddy wasn't accepting no for an answer, not that I wasn't curious...

The demon had slunk farther into the ground, letting his chin creep underneath me more, so that I could see his eyes slanted upward toward me. He continued to lick my lower lips, forcing his tongue so that it wriggled between them, finally hitting my clit which was still over-sensitized from the recent orgasm. It was impossible to keep from moaning when he massaged me in this way. The best way I could describe it was the flirtatious expectation of a French kiss with the full connection of actual penetration.

Freddy continued to lap in small, sloppy circles that didn't allow me to do anything except tense, holding my breath in anticipation as small sighs of pleasure slipped through my lips. My eyes fought to stay open, attempting to focus on his every move since each second, I could feel less and less other than the tingling lust below. My knees kept buckling, causing me to fall onto his face every so often until he used his shoulders to nudge my legs over them to rest. I barely picked up that he'd occasionally chuckle and cut his blades deeper into my flesh. I was sure that I was bleeding, but my vision was too foggy to put together any such details.

Making _me_ orgasm appeared to be his goal. However the selflessness of the action was far out of character for a psychotic child killer so I questioned if that was really all he had in store. Nonetheless, there wasn't anything to be done except go with it, so I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the amazing feeling of his lips sucking at my labia and his saliva coating my clit as his tongue danced aggressively within and without me. To be honest, I wasn't sure I _could_ come again, but Freddy wasn't giving up.

Loosening first his claw from my wrist, he scratched down my hip to my mound, and then down my inner thigh. Slowly, the knives dug into my skin; I didn't imagine the 'pop' of my leg giving way under the points of his gloves, or the gush of blood that flew out with the fresh wounds. My moaning became a cry then and the demon removed himself from my groin just enough for me to hear his devious laugh before rapidly jumping back into his work. He finally let go of my other hand, his fingers rushing to my vagina and not even hesitating in its motion as he jammed two of them inside my entrance. I suppose the oral was enough foreplay in his mind...

Normally, the abrupt movement would have hurt, but due to all the recent activity down there with Fred and now him, it only surprised me. Otherwise I was well lubricated and my walls weren't as tight as normal. The demon didn't cease eating me as his fingers twisted around each other inside, and pulled in and out in a rapid, powerful motion. His claw had left my thigh and reached around, clutching and cutting my ass as the muscles in my legs tensed and held firmly around his head.

I could feel the winding that led up to release, but the actual relief snuck up on me, keeping me unsure that it had happened until my eyelids drooped and my body fell into tremor-like aftershocks of the experience. And still, he kept pounding his fingers into me and lapping up all of the newly renewed wetness.

"Fr-Freddy!" I begged quietly.

Surprisingly, he pulled out and removed his face from in between my legs and looked up at me. His burns were gone, his eyes were blue and full of bewilderment. I couldn't place the exact emotion on his face, but more than anything, I was certain he was trying to figure out how he was feeling himself. I felt his claw leave my rump as both his hands took gentle hold of the outside of my thighs. Carefully supporting me as he inched out of his position to stand, Fred made sure I was able to reach my feet again on my own.

At last, the man stepped away from me, his eyes on the ground, "What did you...I mean why..."

"Fred," my voice was breathy as my lungs heaved attempting to regain a steady rhythm, "I'm not sure..."

Quickly spinning around, he placed frightened, glossy orbs on me, "It has to be some sort of trick. He-he's trying to turn you against me or...or trying to make you feel sorry for him so he can use you."

I had managed to calm myself, but the man in front of me had started pacing, his words were rushed, a sign he wasn't thinking clearly, "Fred, it's okay. If he is up to something, have a little more faith in me. I'm not letting my guard down so easily."

I walked forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, urging him to face me, which he did. However, he instantly glanced past me, vision narrowing as if he was focused on something so I, too, rotated to look. _Shit fucking shit._

"Oh you must be Fred! I didn't mean to interrupt anything," the girl's bubbly tone remained weird to see coupled with her stoic demeanor.

"Naya! You need to get out of here," I warned, yet she continued approaching.

"And you need to put some clothes on," if she was capable of laughing, I'm sure she would have then as her eyes glanced down at my nakedness.

"Oh!" I almost squeaked, folding one leg over the other and moving my hands in an attempt to hide myself. Just as I did, though, fresh pants materialized on my legs.

"Is she one of the patients?" the man's voice was low, his eyes glued to my friend.

I nodded, "I saw her at the end of my dream the last time I was here," I admitted, "I thought it was just because she was waking me up."

Fred kept staring at her and Naya at him which was extremely odd on her end, considering she wasn't one for eye contact.

"What's going on, you two?" I wondered aloud, cautiously making my way to stand at both their sides. And for once, the girl wasn't the first to babble.

"I can normally sense when _he_ is hungry, but..." the man's head cocked to the side, "She isn't registering as food..."

Naya seemed pleased with the assessment as she lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers in a girlish wave before slithering her head back and forth in a sort of contented dance.

"Could he be toying with you? Or perhaps he has weakened?" I suggested, looking to Fred.

"No. I can still sense him. His anger and his hunger... He's even aware she's here and yet nothing in him...cares...nothing wants to do anything about her," he explained.

"What does that mean?" I asked, eyes on Naya who had returned to her typical behavior, her sight darting all around while she studied her surroundings.

"I don't know," the man finally turned to me, "But I don't like it. As you know, he's not the kind to ignore...well, anything."

"What about you?" I questioned the girl.

"Nah," she shrugged, "Imma go explore some."

"No, wait," I fought the urge to physically pull her back, but she stopped herself anyway, "Let's stay together," I smiled at her then turned to Fred, "And not jump to any conclusions."


	22. Chapter 22: Naya

"So...what are you thinking?" I quietly asked the man walking beside me.

"To be honest, I'm wondering if she's not some sort of demon herself," Fred hummed.

"What? Why? How could that even be?" I wondered, feeling like the idea was unfounded, "She's living a human life, in a human body. She's a patient at the hospital with me and she certainly has an appetite for human food."

"I know, I just...I don't know," he sighed, "It's just so baffling. And other than apathy, I can't sense _his_ thoughts about her."

We'd been traipsing about the dream world for perhaps half an hour...in subconscious time. There really was no telling how long we'd actually been here. The two of us had been following Naya, who was as scattered as usual, yet seemingly enthralled with every minor aspect of the changing realm around her. Freddy had not made the slightest hint of an appearance since...our little moment together, and the girl had been equally unhelpful in deciphering the situation. So we had ended up simply watching her while she skipped about the home, the neighborhood streets, and then the park that had re-materialized.

"I'd ask if maybe it was possible that due to her mental problems, she simply wasn't capable of feeling fear," I pondered, "I know some psychopaths are incapable of it, granted she's not a psychopath. But, I've seen her afraid. Earlier today, I...I accidentally grabbed her and she freaked out. It's apparently a trigger for her."

"Really? Was she abused?" Fred inquired.

"I don't know...I honestly don't know much about her at all," I admitted, "Other than that she's schizophrenic and she ended up being sent to the ward when she became an adult because her parents would no longer care for her." I glanced over at him to see his face scrunch up in contemplation, "What is it?"

"It's been some time, so things might have changed," he began, "But from what I've known in the past, that means she was judged legally incompetent."

"What does that even mean?"

"Basically that she's mentally incapable of handling simple, day to day tasks without assistance. It's more than just a disabled person who might need help cleaning their home," he clarified, "It means, quite literally, she would die if left to her own devices. She'd definitely end up homeless and maybe even the victim of some sort of abuse."

"She acts pretty childish in ways," I observed, "But she also seems intelligent. The first day I was in the ward, she was rambling something about theoretical physics. I actually didn't understand and thought she was spewing nonsense, but then she explained it to me, along with something I _had_ heard of- string theory- so I knew then that it wasn't crazy talk."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that is," the man shrugged apologetically.

"What? String theory?"

He nodded.

"Well, I only learned about it because a lot of movies mention it, but they usually call it multiverse. Donnie Darko kinda sorta dabbled with it," I shook my head upon realizing that Fred wouldn't have been around during that era, "Anyway, it's a scientific theory concerning time and the very likely possibility that there are multiple universes, or rather, timelines. Say for instance, how Freddy accepted the offer with the dream demons. String theory states that there is an entire other universe where he didn't. Hell, that there's even a universe where he doesn't exist altogether."

"That's a pleasant thought..." the depressive individual next to me murmured, "So basically, for every set of possible choices, there's an alternate universe where they happened instead?"

"Yeah, it's pretty interesting to think about," I smiled.

"I suppose so, but doesn't that mean there are also millions of other versions of ourselves?" he put together, "I wonder what that means for our soul...does every version of me have the same soul or are we all sharing one and we simply have different brains living out different lives?"

"Um, I...I don't know," I replied awkwardly.

"Sorry," He turned a grin on me, "I'm probably just overthinking things. I'll leave that to the scientists...focus on our own problems."

"Yeah," I agreed, pausing a few seconds before continuing, "Do you think Naya is dangerous?"

"It's hard to say," the man released a heavy exhale, "I don't get that sense, no, and if it weren't for Freddy's reaction or lack thereof, I would just leave it as a no. However, it's definitely got me on edge... Even when he's seen things as a threat: our mother, for instance; there was some manner of shift in him. Whether he was frightened and wanted to run, or he wanted to kill that threat, there was always _something_. Like I said, I'd chalk it up to his not having noticed her for some reason, but I know for a fact he has, which is what makes me question if he sees her as an ally even."

"I don't really picture him as the kind for friends," I scoffed.

"True, though there is a difference between ally and friend," he pointed, "They aren't always one in the same."

"Fair enough," I relented, "And you think he might only see her as being on his side if she was a demon? I'd think that would label her as a danger. Especially if she was a dream demon, it would beg to reason that he'd see her being around as encroaching on his territory. Unless..." a new idea struck me, "Unless she's not the demon...but working with them."

"Like perhaps another person they're seeking to make a deal with?" Fred almost gasped.

"Yeah...she told me... When I was trying to warn her about Freddy after I saw her in my dream," I remembered, "She told me that 'he couldn't be worse than the others.' I asked her what she meant and she had explained that the voices she hears take on forms when she sleeps. What if these voices are actually the same dream demons that offered that pact with Freddy all those years ago?"

The man stopped walking, his gaze shooting to the girl who was bent over and swiping at a tall flower, "That's...strange yet it would be one hell of a coincidence if not. Given the circumstances, I mean. The thing is, I was dying when they approached us. She's...seemingly healthy, in body anyway. The deal was immortality for us, with the use of our new power in itself generating energy to feed them... What could they be offering her?"

"I'm not sure," I considered, "Comfort? She seems to adore attention and at the same time seems pretty lonely. Or maybe even to leave her alone and help her mental state if she accepts."

"Well, let's ask her," Fred decided, taking a determined step toward the girl.

"Wait!" I grabbed his wrist, causing him to turn around quizzically, "Whether they're actually demons or not, it's typically triggering for a schizophrenic to talk about their voices."

"You think she'll freak out again or something if we ask?" he inquired.

"Possibly. Look, all I know is that lots of times talking about their voices will illicit a negative response. It could be her shutting down or even attacking us, but it's highly probable that asking her directly about them will cause her to start hearing them again even if she's not currently."

"And if they are what we think, it might bring them out..." the man's shoulders fell in defeat, "We need to be very careful then. From what I understand, the dream demons aren't very dangerous themselves- that's why they make deals. Otherwise, they could carry out these tasks and be sustained without need for middle men. But even if that's the case, they have a strong influence, if not complete control over Freddy, and we can't know how Naya will react."

"Exactly," I nodded, letting go of his arm.

"What we do we do?" the older man looked to me for answers.

"Hm," I glanced over at my new friend, "Come with me, but let me handle it."

"Okay," my boyfriend agreed easily.

By the time we were strolling once more, the girl was no longer whacking the flower and had begun climbing onto a swing. She had hands on either side of her head, holding onto its chains, and her foot was on the seat as she pulled herself up, her body swaying and twisting with the equipment as she tried to stand on the swing rather than sit.

"Hey, Naya," I smiled, "What are you doing?"

"I haven't been on a playground in forever. Like, even before I was a patient. I always wanted to go to one, but my parents didn't like taking me. Mom said I was too old for such things and Dad really wasn't around much and didn't like doing anything with me at all. I was sometimes allowed to go out in our yard and play, but it'd just end up aggravating them because I'd wander off so they stopped saying it was okay," the girl's rambling sounded cheerful despite the story she was sharing being dismal.

I listened as closely as I could while she carried on, meticulously planning all angles of attack, "Oh wow, that sucks that you didn't get to play outside and stuff a lot. At least you have this world to do things like that. You can always just go to sleep and do anything you want."

"Yeah..." the girl had stabilized herself on the swing and had started pushing herself backwards and forwards, "You should let me come in here more often so I can."

My brow furrowed, "Why don't you make a playground in your own dreams?"

She stopped pushing and simply hung in her spot for a moment. I had hit the mark...hopefully it wasn't too abrupt for her mind to safely process. She began swaying again, "My dreams are always ugly."

"Oh, I see. I'm guessing you have trouble controlling them?"

She nodded, saying nothing in return as she kept swinging.

"I could help you learn how to," I offered, "I mean, I'm still learning, but I got the basics down...and Fred knows how to control the dream realm too," I gestured at the man who had been standing a comfortable distance away and waved politely when I mentioned him. It wasn't

"Yeah, but Freddy is better at it than both of you," Naya observed.

Fred and I exchanged worried glances, "Y-yeah," I cleared my throat, "But he's also evil...he's very dangerous and untrustworthy."

The girl shrugged, "He won't hurt me. Fred said so himself."

Goddammit. I shot the man a look that said, 'see? I told you she was smart.'

"That might be true," my boyfriend stepped up, "But that doesn't mean he will help you. Or that he won't be mean."

"I'm used to mean," the girl stated solemnly, ceasing her motion once more.

I snarled at him with another telepathic message, 'I told you to let me handle it,' which he understood immediately and backed away, "He's right," I confirmed with a calm voice, "Wouldn't you rather learn from us, your friends, anyway? We'd be nice about it and it'd surely be more fun."

"There's more than one way to skin a cat," Naya observed, lifting her head and staring off into space.

"Uh, what?" I asked cautiously.

"My dad used to say that. It means there's several ways of doing the same thing," she clarified.

"That's true," I replied, not yet following where her brain was.

"So I don't need their help to fix it?" she kept staring emotionlessly though her tone seemed to soften.

 _Bingo!_

"Of course not," I surmised that she was referring to the voices aka dream demons, "It might not always seem easier, but working with friends, with kind people, is always better. And I promise you that I will be kind... Fred too."

The man simply tilted his head forward twice in agreement, remembering my warning and not wishing to speak in case he messed whatever I was doing up. The girl dropped her gaze to the ground, eyes darting back and forth before she slowly began swinging again. She kept on like that for several minutes without uttering a word. Fred had also remained put except to look from her and place a questioning expression on me. I was afraid to push the girl any further, already aware that the conversation had become exceedingly close to steering the wrong way. Nonetheless, after that span of time, I opened my mouth to speak, only to be beaten to it by a once more chipper schizophrenic.

"That's good, because I definitely like you better," Naya chirped, "But I don't do that sex crap, so keep it to yourselves, lovebirds."

"Oh, uh...of- of course," I chuckled in embarrassment despite her playful tone.

Fred couldn't seem to withstand laughing, making me turn my face away from the both of them so my blushing smile couldn't be seen. I guess we had confirmed that Naya was being visited by dream demons...or perhaps her hallucinations were just advanced, bordering on delusion, and her mind had her convinced she had no power in her own dreams since she was stalked by these beings. Either way, a little at a time was all we could ask for. I wasn't going to risk upsetting or endangering her with an interrogation. During our waking hours, I would pay more heed to her babbling and try to insert questions so that I could learn more about her life and illness as well.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it's been awhile. I've been working on a business venture and it has taken up a lot of time. I have a good feeling about the future of the project though ^^ Also, I'm readying for the full release of book one in my original series, 'Visitor's Blood,' which will be sold in both e-book and physical format.


	23. Chapter 23: Proposition

On the fourth day after my arrest, I was escorted back to the room where I had been initially stripped, and told to wait there. Otherwise, I didn't know what was going on until the door opened again a little while later and Dr. Alderman appeared, holding a stack of files.

"Good morning," he greeted with a smile, closing the door behind him, "How have you been these last couple of days?"

I was curious as to why he was meeting me here instead of in his office, but I didn't say anything since I knew he was readying to explain. I simply stood on the other side of the table and stared blankly at him.

"Well, you're making eye contact. That's a good sign, right?" he prodded, taking a seat across from me.

No response. I hadn't seen him since that first appointment and neither had I been placed on any medication. The only thing I had been required to do besides keep up with those pesky rules, was attend group therapy every afternoon. Of course, I never shared anything, but I did go, not seeing the point in avoiding it. It would only end with lectures and being locked out of my room during the day for not following instructions. My behavior hadn't changed much except, like he said, I was looking at people more. Outside of speaking with Naya in hidden whispers and Fred during my nightly visit to the dream realm, I had remained silent.

"I wanted to see you before the police showed up to take you to court," he carried on more solemnly.

This information sent my stomach to a pit. I instantly tried to deadpan, so as to not show my distress outwardly, but I could feel the color having drained from my face. _Did this mean that he wasn't doing anything for my case? Did I have no psych defense? Why wouldn't he have spoken to me again before now?_ The questions fought to reach my lips and I barely managed to force them to stay in my head, my mouth quivering slightly as I blinked at the man sitting there, studying me.

"I don't want you stressing. It's simply a formality. You'll show, stand for the judge, and the charges against you will be read," the doctor explained, "Your lawyer will be there to enter your plea and then court will be adjourned and you'll come back here. It's just the beginning of your trial."

I felt slightly more at ease, yet nervous that Dr. Alderman hadn't said he would be there. _My lawyer?_ The state must have appointed me one. I certainly didn't have the funds for getting one myself. But...my plea? Guilty or not guilty...I hadn't ever stated that I would be fighting for either.

"Do you have any questions about all this?" he wondered, and I could tell he was really hoping I'd say something.

"Will you be there?" my voice, much out of use and strained, sounded quite weak.

Charlie straightened his back just a bit, his eyes showing a little light, "Yes, I will. I've instructed your lawyer to enter 'not guilty,' on your behalf."

My vision narrowed in consideration of the man, "Can you even do that?" I tried to keep what few statements I did make simple. I felt that my reason behind asking that was presumable.

"I can, actually, yes," he nodded, "You're not quite legal...and the state has awarded me temporary custody over you. Which was hell to get, I'll have you know, so I hope you're alright with that."

I couldn't tell how serious he was with those last words. Normally, he'd say such things as a joke or in a light manner to make certain others knew he wasn't upset. However, now, his expression showed no hint of joviality. It wasn't unkind, but definitely somber...worried...and I wasn't sure if he was worried for me, or for having put his neck out for me like that. I nodded awkwardly, looking away from him.

"Dylan will be there too," he tilted his head down to the side as if trying to peer up into my diverted gaze.

Dylan...

"How..." my voice cracked and I couldn't continue.

"He's fine. Eager for you to be out of here, which," the doctor cleared his throat, "You should know will take time and might not happen at all."

"You don't believe me," I whispered.

"I believe _you_ believe Fred Krueger killed your mother," he sighed, "And I believe you're not at fault. You've been through a lot and it's clearly taken a toll on you. It _would_ help matters if you'd talk to me. The sooner I can figure out what you are thinking now and what you were thinking then, the better a defense you'll have."

Something about hearing him say this made me doubt that speaking to him would honestly help. _What if he realized that I was trying to play him?_ He _is_ a professional after all. Then again...the truth was that Fred killed Mom...more or less. So that part wouldn't be me pretending. _Nonetheless, what if he thought I was? But why I else would a healthy teenager suddenly slaughter her mother like that other than a mental break?_ I thought back to my life and what Dr. Alderman knew of it, which was a quite a bit. According to everything I had learned about psychology, there was nothing to point to such an act of violence. I had never acted out. I'd had fights with my parents, but what kid hasn't? Outside of the growing interest in serial killers, Freddy specifically, there was nothing that I could think of. Besides...besides Dad...because of him, I was technically more likely to develop mental illness. People with family members with some sort of psychological ailment are prone to becoming unstable themselves.

"He _did_ kill Mom," I finally said, "When I took the glove out of the museum...his spirit was able to release from captivity since it finally had human contact again."

Charlie leaned back in his chair and placed a hand over his mouth in contemplation, "Then, it was a ghost that committed the murder? How does an ethereal being like that manage to cause such damage?" his eyebrow arched.

"Because he possessed me!" I yelled, my voice shaking, "He took over my body and used me to kill her!" moisture welled in my eyes as I lifted my hands in a display of panic, trying to show how the demon took control...it wasn't an act either. I don't know what happened, but I was...I was _there_ again. I could see her in front of me...crying, pleading for me to stop as my claw delved into her stomach. I could feel Freddy standing behind me, his hot breath tickling my neck as he cackled, forcing me to dig deeper and deeper into her flesh.

"NO! GET OFF OF ME! NO!" I screamed, feeling arms wrap around me, hearing his maniacal laughter deafening every other sound.

"It's alright, calm down, calm down," suddenly a new voice came and my vision flooded back.

The hands holding me weren't Freddy's...they were attendants from the ward. The had pulled me to lay on the table where Charlie had been sitting and there was a needle in my arm... My eyes fluttered from the syringe, to the man and woman keeping me still, trying to relax me...and found the doctor, his back against the wall, staring at me while he rubbed his jaw. He wore an expression of shock which I wasn't sure was that he didn't expect me to attack him or if...he had seen something else.

 _What happened?_ My mind desperately tried to piece together what had come over me while the medicine began taking affect, making me lose the strength to struggle or even hold my own head up. Gaze stayed trained upon Charlie, the events of the brief blackout returned to me. After talking about how Freddy took control of my body, I had stepped closer to the doctor who didn't move and simply tried to tell me to relax and take a seat. Instead of heeding, however, I lunged forward and punched him straight in the jaw.

 _"WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN? WHY?"_ I remember screaming at the man as he scrambled backward, attempting to diffuse the situation with placating gestures without resorting to putting his hands on me. The nurses had then rushed in and fought me back into the position where I was now falling asleep.

"What? What's wrong?" Fred's tone was frantic as I entered the dream world, "Why are you here? It can't even be afternoon!"

"Ugh..." I sat up on the cold concrete, rubbing my head, "They drugged me," I complained.

"What? Why?"

I felt the man's hand on my thigh and slowly adjusted my vision to see him kneeling beside me, eyes full of worry, "I'm...not sure. I think I attacked the doctor."

"You think?" his brow furrowed, "I don't understand. Is that part of your plan for getting out?"

"No, I-" in the moment I glanced away, Freddy had appeared, his auburn eyes boring into mine and his mouth curled into a sly grin. I jumped at the feeling of blades instead of fingers resting on my leg, to which he snickered.

"No, but it was part of _my_ plan," he rasped.

"What the fuck, Freddy?" I couldn't help but growl.

At first, I expected him to get angry, yet he only seemed amused, "I felt your little act needed a more...sincerity."

"So you actually possessed me?" I asked, somewhat incredulously. _Could he do that?_

"No, I simply," he lifted a steely finger and flicked it at my temple, "Pricked at your brain. You'll be amazed at what a little pressure can do."

"You're the prick..." I mumbled, happy that for once he wasn't being aggressive, "So now you're helping?"

"Hmph!" he stood up, materializing the boiler room around us, "It's better for me that you get out of the loony bin too, you know. Who knows what kind of shit they'll put you on that will affect me being able to connect to you? And unfortunately," he snarled, "I'm stuck with you for now."

"Oh, it's unfortunate, now is it?" I scoffed, lifting myself completely off the ground and brushing off the soot, "You didn't seem to feel that way when you were nose deep in my pussy!"

 _Damn, calm down_ , I reprimanded, _you're pushing your luck with his temper here_. Once again, Freddy laughed instead of taking me genuinely. _What was up with him right now?_ I watched as he strolled off into the distances, his form becoming fuzzy in the steam of the factory. Nonchalantly, he twisted around and grinned at me, "That stuff generally lasts a good couple of hours. So why don't we have a little fun?" he threw his claw into the air, slinging its blades outward.

 _Shit. Now what?_ The last few days, we'd been free of him. Nights consisted of laying in Fred's arms while we chatted about the situation we were in and life in general, in between the two of us taking turns practicing our dream powers. He was more adept at it than me and quickly picked up the ability to change the realm at his will. I'd made progress too, though mostly it was with using his tips to strengthen my mind from being probed, should I be placed in that predicament again, which it seemed I might be very soon. We had figured that the slasher had taken a break, perhaps due to something with the Naya discovery, or even that Fred had grown considerably stronger while he grew weaker, not having been able to feed in several days. Maybe we'd been wrong. Perhaps he'd been planning this little stunt, saving his stamina for it. I did realize that the scheduling played in his favor. Not only was none of us expecting it and Fred had spent the evening hours expending his energy, but since Naya wouldn't be asleep now...I couldn't hope for any help there either. It looked like it was up to me to figure this out.

"Alright," I bit, "Let's play a game then."

The demon cocked his head to the side, taken off guard, yet intrigued, "Oh? What do you have in mind?" he chuckled, vanishing into the air and reappearing directly in front of me, strumming his blades threateningly.

"The way I see it," I did my best to sound confident, "You need my help."

"What makes you think-" his expression contorted into anger at last.

"You need to feed, don't you?" I cut him off, "And you can't get away from me, can you?" I expected some sort of insult or even for him to stick his claw on my head and try to dig into my brain, but he just growled, barring his teeth, and waited for me to continue. "So how about you do something for me?"

"How is this a game?" he seethed, closing the small amount of space between our bodies so that our noses brushed and I could feel his relaxed bulge touch my groin.

"Because you'll be teaching me about controlling the mind. In return, I'll bring you souls," I explained, "That means we'll both get more powerful...and see who can win this little war in the end: you? or me and Fred? Do we have a deal?"

The demon's blades scratched his chin as he thought, then, slowly, a devious smirk crept onto his face, "Deal."


End file.
